


Wrong Road to the Right Place

by Ray_Writes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn't want to admit she still loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU from the end of the episode “Damaged”. I’ve always sort of wondered at how things could have taken a much different turn and wanted to see where it could lead if it did. I have the first seven chapters already completed as this is one of the projects I've been working on and off on for a while, so I promise no crazy long waits for updates this time. Enjoy!

She was so stupid, was all Laurel could think as she got back in her car, tires spinning on gravel for a moment before she was finally watching Queen Manor grow smaller and smaller in her rear-view mirror. Oliver’s bedroom was probably the last place on Earth the two of them could have a sane, rational discussion. And yet she’d let herself be led up there anyway, just as she’d let him back into her life and let herself kiss him.

For one single, blissful moment she’d closed her eyes and pretended not for the first time that the last five years had been nothing but a nightmare she was finally waking from. Shut out the anger and loss and heartbreak that had been a weight on her for so long she never thought she’d learn how to live without it. Not until Oliver had returned.

He had cheated on her, but he still wanted her. And Laurel…looking past that thin playboy veneer he seemed determined to project to the world and gazing at what those years away did to him, the scars they left on his body and the Hell it must have put him through just to come home to them…she knew she still wanted him, too. She always had.

But could they risk the delicate balance of their beyond-strained status quo? So much had happened in the intervening years, and not even a month ago she would’ve laughed at the idea. Anyone else would tell her she still should. Maybe she was just letting her emotions cloud her better judgment as she often did when it came to Oliver.

Laurel let herself into her apartment, trudging over to the couch and dropping onto it with a groan. Why couldn’t she just hate him? Even Oliver said she should!

And yet he hadn’t wanted her to leave; in that moment he’d felt so raw and vulnerable to her, chest bared to show years of a tortuous struggle. How could she hate him knowing even a fraction of the pain he must have suffered, and knowing she was something that pulled him through? She didn’t have it in her to turn her back on him that way. Oliver was and always had been her friend above all else. They’d been through too much for it to be any other way.

She hoped he knew that, just as she hoped he knew he had his family and Tommy to support him now that he was home and away from that horrible place. The fishermen who rescued him had made no mention of others on the island, and she had to wonder what became of the people Oliver said tortured him. It made her sick to her stomach to know even that much, and yet Laurel couldn’t deny a growing concern and curiosity.

Who were those people? Why did they torture him, and where were they when he’d been found? How had Oliver been able to survive to stand before her, bruised and scarred and marked in so many places, but  _ strong _ in the face of it all?

It hadn’t just been wounds that littered his torso, she recalled. Her eyes admittedly had been initially drawn to the dark symbols inked into his skin which had certainly not been there before the Queen’s Gambit. So they had to have some sort of connection to his time on that island.

Laurel tried to picture them in her mind’s eye as best she could. There’d been symbols—some kind of characters, possibly Chinese—and she knew she wouldn’t be able to tell those apart from any other set from the brief glance she’d gotten. But the other tattoo she’d had a better look at. Some sort of star…

Laurel leaned over the couch to rummage through her purse, retrieving a spare legal pad and pen. She placed the end to her lips for a moment as she thought back. It had a lot of points. Six? No, that didn’t look right. Eight. And the lines had sort of criss-crossed over each other, though she didn’t remember the exact pattern to it. And hadn’t there been dots? Around the outside.

After several attempts punctuated by many scribbles, she thought she had a rough sketch. Laurel was no artist, but it was the best she had short of getting a picture, which was completely out of the realm of possibility.

Instead, she lunged again to grab her laptop off the coffee table. She wasn’t sure how much Google might be able to help her, but there had to be some page explaining tattoo meanings, right? Yet scarcely had she opened her browser before being instantly derailed; a knock at the door had her setting both laptop and legal pad back on the table before pushing off the couch and answering it.

“Dad, what are you doing here so late?” She’d been certain he’d be out with the task force, looking for any sign of the Hood while Oliver was under house arrest.

He grimaced, but waited until she moved aside to let him in before speaking. “Listen, this isn’t easy for me to say, but…your ‘client’ was attacked at his party tonight. From the looks of it, by a hired gun.”

How?  _ When _ ? It must have been right after she’d left, and Laurel was seized with terror at the thought that the last thing she might’ve done to Oliver was run from him. “Is Oliver—?”

“Queen’s fine, I got the guy,” he answered brusquely to her immense relief. “And I’ve had the lecture from his mother already, thanks.” Laurel could only imagine Moira’s fury, and she felt a certain amount of sympathy for her father even if he had brought the situation on himself.

“So it was somebody after the Hood,” she confirmed.

“That’s our best guess. You’ll be happy to know all charges against your client are being dropped.”

“I’d be happier if you made that news public knowledge with a statement.” Her father scowled, but Laurel pressed, “As long as people still think there’s a possibility, it puts Oliver and his family in danger. He shouldn’t have to be afraid for his life, Dad, not anymore.”

“Alright,” he conceded with a nod. His look turned scrutinizing as he seemed to struggle with whether or not to say what followed. “Listen, Laurel—what he said about that island, it’s none of our business. And I’m not saying you have to hate the guy—” that he’d prefer it hung unspoken in the air between them “but don’t put yourself in a position where he’s gonna hurt you again.”

Laurel took a half step back, shaking her head. “Oliver and I aren’t—” close? together? in light of what had just happened at the Manor, could she even answer? “I’m just advocating for my client,” she decided, crossing her arms over her chest. “His polygraph results are ready, right?”

Her father accepted the change of subject without comment, instead handing her the papers tucked under his arm. “Here we go. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“No,” she agreed as her eyes scanned the page. No clear lies, only a slight waver…when he’d been asked if he’d ever been to Iron Heights. But Oliver  _ had _ been to Iron Heights, with her, years and years ago. She’d assumed he’d forgotten, but then why the waver on the polygraph? If he remembered the trip there’d be no reason to answer the way he had, and yet he’d still said he’d never been to the prison. The machine had picked up a slight waver, perhaps a barely-passing lie; a lie to cover up the fact he had been there, and far more recently than a school field trip—

“Something the matter?” Her father’s voice snapped her out of what felt a revelation rapidly unfolding, and her eyes darted up to meet his.

Laurel drew in a breath and then answered in as calm a tone as she could manage, “No, all fine. Thanks, Dad, I’ll make sure Oliver gets these.” Any dread she might have been feeling over seeing Oliver after the kiss had now been replaced with a single-minded determination to get an answer to the question everyone but her had had on their minds until tonight: was he the man that saved her life in Iron Heights, and more importantly, was he the Hood?

She crossed the room to place the polygraph results with some of her other files.

“What’s this?” When she turned back, her father had scooped up the legal pad with her rough sketches. “You take up doodling?”

“No. Actually a client of mine was showing that image to me, a tattoo.” She didn’t like to lie to him, but it would be equally wrong to discuss something private about Oliver. Not until she’d gotten a chance to speak to him herself.

Her father didn’t seem to mind the evasion. “Good to know you’re not wasting all your time on Queen anymore.” She said nothing, and after a moment he looked back down at the pad. “I might hang on to this.”

“What are you going to do with it?” She asked, an eyebrow raised as he ripped one of the pages she’d littered with sketches free and tucked it into his pocket.

“Might hang it at my desk,” he answered flippantly, then was heading for the door. “Get some rest before you head over to that manor, Laurel. The Queens’ security isn’t letting anybody else in the rest of the night.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Dad.” When he’d left she dropped back onto the couch and picked the legal pad back up, gazing at the symbol she’d attempted to recreate. Then she set it aside. She had a far more conclusive lead in the polygraph now to try and figure out the truth about Oliver.

And what if her suspicion was right? What then? What did she do? It was those questions that plagued her once she finally crawled into bed, and morning came quicker than she expected what with all her tossing and turning. It was now or never.

“Good morning, Miss Lance.” It was Oliver’s bodyguard who let her into the manor, and she offered a smile in return.

“Good morning. Is Oliver in?”

“He’s in his room. I can show you up there.”

“Thank you, but I- uh, I know the way,” she replied, casual as she could make it.

Mr. Diggle nodded once. “Right.” He left her to continue up the steps on her own.

Oliver was silhouetted by the window when she entered the room, tall and broad with his back facing her. She didn’t know if it was her own conviction influencing her or merely that pose that had him bearing such a resemblance to the Hood it was suddenly striking. Laurel drew in a breath before remarking in a purposefully light tone, “Rough party.” He turned to look at her then, and she elaborated, “My dad told me. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he confirmed and even though she’d already known the answer Laurel couldn’t help some relief. Everything about Oliver and her feelings where he was concerned were so tangled and complicated, and until she got the truth from him she didn’t think she could begin to decipher them.

So it was time to take the plunge. She stepped forward, holding out the papers her father had dropped off the previous night. “These are your polygraph results. My father asked you if you'd ever been to Iron Heights. It's the prison where the vigilante saved me last week.” He didn’t react in any particular way other than a nod of acknowledgement, like it was something he’d heard about but hadn’t experienced. So Laurel pressed. “It's also where you and I went on our eighth grade field trip.” And now, she thought, she could just see the slightest bit of tension in his jaw, the widening of his eyes by just a fraction. “When you said that you had never been there, I thought maybe you were just nervous, or that you'd forgotten. But then I looked at your results, and there is a slight flutter in your answer to that question. And if you lied on one, you could have lied on others.”

Oliver was frowning now, face almost entirely closed off under the onslaught of her suspicion. But he didn’t provide a defense. No, it was her own words he threw back at her. “What happened to me being too selfish to be a masked crusader?”

“Oliver!” She wasn’t sure what stung more, the cold tone he used with her or the realization that she truly had hurt him. “I saw your  _ scars _ .”

“Do you want to know why I don't talk about what happened to me there? Because if people knew—if  _ you _ knew...you'd see me differently. And not as some vigilante guy. As damaged,” he stated, voice quiet and hoarse. It was like a transformation had taken place before her eyes, leaving Ollie looking smaller, more broken. “I don't sleep. I barely eat. I can barely sign my name, let alone aim a bow and arrow.”

His eyes seemed to plead with her to understand. And Laurel wanted to reach out to him, offer him comfort. But she didn’t know, after what had happened in this room only the night before, if she could trust herself to be strong for him. Not like the way he’d held strong for her the night the Triad had come to her apartment; his careful, sure movements; the calm before they’d broken through the windows, and the steadiness of his embrace. All things he was telling her right now he shouldn’t be capable of.

What, then, was she supposed to think?

Instead she began slowly, “After last night...clearly we're still attracted to one another.” He waited, seemingly on a held breath to hear her verdict. “Oliver. Nothing can ever happen between us.”

“I know.”

And what else could she really say? It was what had to be said, what she  _ should _ say, and how could she say anything else? With Oliver claiming to be a wreck of a man and Laurel a confused wreck of a woman these last five years, how could they expect to give things another try, another chance, and have them work? It was a fool’s hope, any and all attraction and feelings be damned.

She still couldn’t help the feeling of regret as she again left Oliver standing there alone. But she stood by her words; nothing could ever happen between them as long as Oliver wasn’t ready. If he was telling the truth he was in no state for a relationship, and if he was lying Laurel could not do that to herself, not again.

Just before she reached her car, her phone started buzzing and she paused on the Queen’s drive to check the caller ID.

“Dad, what’s up?”

“Laurel, listen. I- I had some of the guys look at that paper of yours, the tattoo—”

“Dad, that was for a  _ client _ ,” she groaned, casting a guilty look at the manor behind her and thanking her good sense for at least keeping things anonymous. If she’d been thinking clearly she wouldn’t have let her father take the drawing at all but she’d been so distracted by the polygraph.

“Honey you can be mad at me all you want, but this is important, alright? The boys in Organized Crime are telling me it’s a symbol for the Bratva. The Russian mob.”

“The mob?” She didn’t recognize her own voice for how faint it sounded. Laurel placed a hand on the hood of her car to steady herself.

“Yes. So I’m begging you, Laurel,  _ begging _ —don’t take this case. Whatever your client saw, whatever they’re involved in, you need to get yourself as far away from it as possible, you understand me? Laurel?”

“I- I can’t believe this, I…” She was staring out at the expansive grounds but wasn’t seeing any of it, instead lost in the image her father’s words had created: Oliver, connected to the mob. How could that be? Of all the secrets she’d thought he might have been hiding, this was nowhere on the list. It  _ couldn’t _ be true.

“I’m coming down to the station.” She needed to see it, with her own eyes. Then she’d have to decide…something. “Talk to you soon.”

But though she got in her car, she didn’t immediately leave. Laurel gripped the key tightly in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. She was at once anxious and terrified to get to the precinct. If Oliver’s tattoo matched the symbol the police showed her, what did it mean for him, and what did she do about it?

There was a light rapping on her window and Laurel jolted in her seat with a gasp. But it was only Mr. Diggle standing by her door, and when she turned the car on and rolled down the window he asked, “Everything alright, Miss Lance? No car trouble?”

“No. Uh, no, I just had to take a call. Thank you for checking.” She did her best to plaster a pleasant smile on her face.

“Just doing my job,” he replied, taking a step back to allow her the space. Laurel began the drive away from Queen Manor yet again, though her eyes continually darted to the rearview mirror, watching the house and John Diggle watching her until they disappeared around a bend.

She should hate Oliver Queen, she should run and stay away from him; everything seemed to be telling her. But had Laurel found the real reason Oliver had tried so hard to push her away?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the lovely comments so far guys. It makes me really happy to know you're all this excited already! This chapter is on the short end; I'm actually pretty sure it's the shortest chapter I have planned for this story. But there's a lot of info that needed to be dumped. Starting next chapter, you'll get to see how this new element begins to change some of the canon events. But hopefully this installment is enjoyable as well!

Quentin found himself trying not to pace in the aisle beside his desk. And considering the way Hilton was eyeing him, he was failing.

“Laurel’s going to be fine,” his partner finally spoke up. “Just be happy you figured out what was happening early enough.”

“Early is never early enough with Laurel,” he disputed. “Once she’s taken on a client it’s impossible to convince her to drop it.” By this point he shouldn’t have been surprised; his daughter had always taken on the dangerous and the lost causes. Queen, Merlyn, him.

But she’d sounded shaken on the phone. Maybe Hilt was right, maybe he could warn her off this one. He’d have to, for his own peace of mind as much as her safety.

Quentin looked up and spotted Laurel just as she entered the bullpen. With one hand he beckoned another detective over. “Thought you might want to talk to one of the boys. Honey, this is Rivera, he’s in Organized Crime.”

Laurel and Rivera shook hands. “If you wouldn’t mind joining me at my desk, Miss Lance.” Rivera led the both of them over, motioning Laurel into a spare seat before logging into the system. He pulled up an image that was becoming rapidly familiar to Quentin.

“This is the tattoo from the drawing Detective Lance showed me?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed and her shoulders slumped, like she’d been hoping against all hope not to recognize it. Still, she hesitated before finally giving a single nod. “Is it definitely Bratva?”

“Yes. The particular symbol can be used to signify rank as well, depending on where it’s located. Whoever has this tattoo could be very high up, possibly a Captain in the Russian mafia.”

Both Quentin and his daughter’s eyes widened at that, and he had to thank whatever good fortune had caused him to have an inkling of suspicion the previous night.

Laurel, however, continued with the questions. “How would somebody achieve that rank?”

Rivera shrugged. “Same as any organization. Demonstrating loyalty to and dedication to the mob, successfully achieving their goals, a favor from a member higher up.”

“And what would you consider a feasible time to be promoted that far? Five years? Ten?”

“Laurel, is that really important?” he interrupted. “You’re not looking into this any further.”

“Although anything you do know could be very valuable information,” Rivera added. “Such as the name of the person who owns this tattoo?”

But his daughter shook her head. “That would be a violation of my client’s right to privacy. I’ve already told you more than I should.”

“Alright, well, he isn’t your client anymore, right?” Quentin came around to stand in front of his daughter’s chair, gripping her arms and waiting until she met his eyes. “You’re gonna drop this.”

Laurel held his gaze. “They’re not my client anymore.”

He squeezed her arms briefly, then stepped back to let her stand.

“Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions,” she told Rivera.

“Not a problem, miss. I’m just glad the detective brought it to my attention before you got hurt.”

His daughter’s smile tightened considerably, but rather than say anything more she simply turned to give him a kiss on the cheek in goodbye. Laurel waved to Hilt on her way out, and his partner nodded in return before getting up from his desk to meet Quentin halfway.

“That seemed to go pretty easy.”

“Yeah. Almost too easy.” 

Hilton gave him a look. 

“You don’t know Laurel like I do. I thought I was really gonna have to fight her on this.” He wasn’t entirely convinced she’d let this go completely, at any rate.

“Well I’m a little surprised you didn’t fight for whatever information she has on that client.”

“And have another mob put out another hit on her for being an informant? Pretty sure once is enough for a lifetime.” Even as he said it, he knew his partner had a point. Hell, if it were one of his cases, he’d probably have done anything he could to get the facts. Quentin glanced back over his shoulder at Rivera; the other detective was already back to work at his desk, hunched over and intently studying a file. He thought it over for another minute before waving Hilt off back towards their section of the bullpen.

“Listen, Rivera,” he said, making his way over again. The other man looked up. “I really do appreciate you helping me out with this. And well, I’d like to return the favor somehow. I’ll try and have a look at my daughter’s files, see who she’s been working with lately and whether any names with connections turn up.”

“That’d be a big help, Lance, thanks.”

“But Laurel’s name stays off the books, alright? She’s not a witness, she’s not tied to this in any official way.”

Rivera nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“So will I.” Maybe it was Laurel’s job to protect her clients, but it was his job to protect the city…and his daughter.

\---

For the first time she could ever really recall, Laurel found the workday dragging to a ridiculous degree. Which might have had more to do with the fact her mind kept wandering to her own project of sorts. As it was she could barely concentrate on the casework in front of her and was at the front of the crowd, things packed and out the door at the end of the day. Once home, however, it was back to work, albeit on a more personal matter.

Now that Laurel knew what she was really looking for, it was simple enough to find the information. The Bratva did currently operate in the United States, and more importantly within Starling. The largest branch was called the  _ Solntsevskaya _ , and Rivera’s information was correct, if only partially.

Oliver’s tattoo had two meanings. An eight-point star on both knees apparently signified the person would ‘bow to no one’. Laurel tried to picture Oliver with those particular symbols to her own skepticism and slight amusement. It was very unlikely she’d get an opportunity to check for those at any rate, so she abandoned that train of thought before it could get started. But a star on the upper chest as she’d seen gave a person very high status within the ‘thief-in-law’ or  _ vor _ community. Oliver could very well be a Captain in the Bratva as Rivera had said.

Laurel just couldn’t figure out the  _ how _ . There was no way Oliver would have ever joined the Russian mob of his own free will; he may have been self-centered and lacked a good work ethic in the past, and he was certainly dishonest and didn’t have much regard for authority. But he wasn’t a fundamentally  _ bad _ person.

He’d hurt her on a short-sighted selfish whim all those years ago, not with malicious intent.

If the tattoo came from his time on the island as she knew it did, then he must have joined there, too. Her mind unerringly thought back to his words during the polygraph:  _ the people that were there tortured me _ . What if he’d been tortured into joining?

She pictured Ollie as he’d been before, all boyish charm and pouting lips, washed ashore on some forgotten rock in the middle of the ocean. His father and her sister dead at sea, and strangers inflicting on him pain she couldn’t imagine, pain that had left those scars. He would have agreed to anything to make it stop. Anyone would have.

No, she didn’t fault Oliver for the situation he had been in. What troubled her more was whether or not he was  _ still _ in that situation. Whether his rescue by those fishermen was the miracle it had appeared…or part of a plan.

Laurel didn’t want to believe it of him. What reason would the Bratva have wanted for him to return to Starling after five years if not Queen Consolidated? And Oliver had flatly refused the position, if not in the way she’d recommended that night they’d been attacked by the Chinese Triad—another crime organization, and suddenly she was looking at that in a whole new light.

It had seemed a simple, straight-forward attempt on her life, but having this information it now seemed an awful coincidence to her that Oliver had happened to show up the very same night. How exactly might the Bratva and Triad be connected?

She did a quick search for any mention of the latter organization in the article she had pulled up. She’d have liked a more reputable source than search engines, but there was no way of going to Rivera with her questions without tipping off her father.

She found the Triad under a heading of ‘Allies’.

Laurel swallowed hard. No. No way. Ollie would  _ never _ . He’d saved her, him and Mr. Diggle!

The Triad hadn’t recognized Oliver as some Russian mob ally, and he’d fought  _ against  _ them by helping her evade their attack. She banished the thought of those other mysterious characters inked down the other side of his chest from her mind. Everything she’d read tonight suggested he should have been one of her attackers, yet he’d acted exactly the opposite. Of course he had, this was  _ Oliver _ she was thinking about. So he wasn’t with the Bratva anymore; he’d escaped them.

Laurel dropped her head against the backrest of her couch, grinning with stupid relief up at the ceiling. She felt utterly spent from this emotional roller-coaster, though a glance at the clock had her thinking it might have something to do with the late hour as well. She’d gotten lost in research and speculation, and she wondered if this, too, was why Oliver didn’t want to talk about what happened on the island. If he didn’t want people finding out about his past and the things he’d had to do to survive. Somehow, she found that more believable than anything he’d yet to tell her.

And really, could she fault him for that? The less people who knew about his ties— _ former _ , she was  _ convinced _ —with the Bratva, the better. The safer, too, for him and his family. She thought of a kidnapping hours after his return and the reason why Mr. Diggle was hired in the first place. Oliver wouldn’t have come back to his family if it somehow jeopardized them; if her silence on what she’d uncovered could help ensure the Queens’ safety then she was all the more glad she’d kept her inquiries mostly private and anonymous. Their well being was more important to her than his past. If Oliver wanted to leave this part of it behind, she could accept that.

Rubbing at bleary eyes she resolved to quit this trip down the rabbit hole that was the mystery of Oliver’s time away and dragged herself to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is a day late, guys! I had school and work back-to-back yesterday and just clean forgot to update before heading to bed. In any case, here's the next chapter where we may start to see some changes taking place. Please enjoy!

Laurel’s sleep, however determined she was to get it the night before, was fitful. She kept hearing Oliver’s voice telling her how damaged he felt, how he struggled daily with the most basic tasks. And then there was another little voice that sounded a lot more like her father’s:  _ they never just let you walk away, the mob. _

How safe was Ollie when he was possibly the most famous person in all of Starling City?

No wonder he seemed so helpless, so broken. He’d survived both an attempted kidnapping and assassination in just about a month. She hoped having Mr. Diggle close by at all times gave him some comfort, the same way she’d been able to draw strength and support from his solid presence the night the Triad had come.

Laurel still didn’t think he was as incapable or broken as he claimed, having seen the assured way he’d handled himself then. But maybe he really did think himself damaged from his time with the Bratva.

Maybe what really had him afraid was being forced back into that kind of life.

She got ready for work and headed into CNRI while parsing through these ideas, and once there put her time towards filing paperwork, knowing she didn’t have the focus for much else.

Joanna held her tongue for about two days of this. “I would’ve thought you’d be itching for a new case by now after that circus Oliver put you through.”

“Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged, unsure how to put her thoughts into un-incriminating words. “I guess it just…got me thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” her friend said with a knowing smirk. “You two do some ‘thinking’ together?”

“What? No!” Her face heated up with the partial lie. “I just found some stuff out about his time on the island, and it has me worried about him.”

Joanna thankfully sobered. “You think he needs to get some help? Talk about what happened?”

“Maybe. But I don’t know if he’d want to go to somebody or how much he’d tell them.” That was part of what had been driving her to distraction these last few days; she couldn’t really discuss what she knew without betraying Oliver, and after her last bungled attempt accusing him of being the Hood she was afraid he’d shut her out if she brought up anything else, so she’d been left to turn her theories and thoughts and fears for him over and over in her mind on her own.

“Well, he’s talked to you,” Joanna pointed out.

“Some,” Laurel hedged. What really concerned her she’d pieced together on her own, after all.

“Look, he’s not just going to spill everything after five years.” Joanna remarked. “Whenever my brother gets called in on a really bad fire, he doesn’t like to talk to any of us about it, not for a while. But he knows, when he’s ready, that he can. That’s all you can really do, Laurel. Just let Oliver know you’re someone he can go to for help.”

“I know,” she sighed. “You’re right, I know. Thanks for the advice.”

“Here’s some more—stop worrying in the meantime!” Her friend told her with a grin. “What happened to staying away from him?”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “If you’d told me a year ago I’d ever give a damn about Oliver Queen again I would’ve laughed in your face, but…I do. I do care about him. And I do not want to examine that too closely.”

Her friend held up her hands in mock surrender.

“Laurel, Joanna, conference room in five,” Anastasia called over to their desks, and she seized on the distraction.

Although she was not so happy about it once everyone had assembled. “Alright people, I don’t want to alarm you but we’ve gotten some pretty bad news. Stagg Industries is pulling their funding.”

There were shocked gasps and exclamations all around, and Laurel was honestly not sure which category she fell under. After everything else that had happened this week this just felt like a nasty slap in the face. Her feelings on Oliver, what she’d discovered about him, all of those things couldn’t shake the foundation she’d built her life on the last five years. But this?

“Think you can get your Vigilante boyfriend to break another one of our cases, Lance?” Derrick asked, breaking into her thoughts. “It’d put us back in the news, might get us some new donors.”

Joanna immediately rose to her defense with a sharp, “Lay off, Derrick.”

Laurel, on the other hand, found herself having to stifle a laugh of hysteria. The Hood! The bow-and-arrow wielding, mysterious vigilante who went after the criminal elite and who Laurel had had more one-on-one interactions with than most, all while her thoughts were now tangled up in one-percenter Oliver Queen who was a former member of the  _ Russian mafia _ . As if she needed more complicated!

Apparently some of her inner turmoil must have been showing on her face, for Derrick sounded rather contrite as he replied, “Sorry, Laurel, you know I was joking.”

“No, I uh- it’s fine. How bad is the situation?”

Their boss was already looking glum enough, and she gave a slow shake of her head. “Honestly, Stagg was almost single-handedly keeping us in business. I’ll keep you all updated on the situation, but you might want to start looking at your options outside of CNRI.”

Could things possibly get any worse?

—-

Tommy didn’t think things could possibly get any better. Thanks to Thea’s expert advice, he’d put out the offer to host a benefit for CNRI, which Laurel had accepted after some prodding from Joanna.

Now if he could just find a minute to talk to her alone. Leave it to Carter Bowen to get in the way. Not to mention Thea’s worrying level of intoxication.

But Laurel at last left the dance floor and made her way back over as he started to usher Thea to the door. 

“Hey, is Thea okay?”

“Yeah. Just the, uh, food didn’t agree with her.”

“Right, the food,” she said in a tone that implied she knew pretty well what was really going on.

“Yeah. I guess we’ll have to save that dance for next time since I couldn’t cut in on your little dosido with Carter.”

“Tommy.” Laurel shook her head. “I danced with him because he wrote a massive check to CNRI. Why would you think anything else?”

“I guess when it comes to you, I tend not to think straight,” he admitted, grimacing at his own rash assumption. “So next time, then?”

Laurel’s face was pinched in the sort of way that meant she had something to say that she knew the other person didn’t want to hear. Tommy had been on the receiving end of that look often enough in his life to know it when he saw it, but this was the single worst time for it to appear.

Sure enough, what followed was a pained, “Tommy…I really don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Immediately he winced at the near audible whine in the question. “I mean, we have fun together, don’t we?”

“Of course we do,” she assured him, “because we’re friends. But a relationship is more than just fun. It’s commitment and investment—”

“Look, I know I have a reputation, Laurel, but I’m willing to try those things!” Tommy insisted. He was starting to regret leading the other day with the story about the girl he’d nearly taken to bed twice; really not one of his smoothest attempts.

“I’m not trying to tell you how you feel, Tommy, I’m trying to tell you how  _ I _ feel,” she corrected him with a sad smile. “And I just don’t know if I’m ready to start a relationship when I still don’t know how I feel about what happened between us already.”

“What’s there to be conflicted about?” He asked with a growing tension in his jaw. “We were both single after everything with Oliver and—” Tommy faltered, averting his eyes as he finished with a muttered, “Sara.”

The long pause after almost spoke for itself, but Laurel still replied, “Do I even need to answer that? I’m sorry, Tommy, I really am, but there’s a lot going on right now, and I just don’t think a relationship is a good idea.”

“Right.” Tommy tried for a smile, but he was fairly certain he just ended up baring his teeth a little. “Because Oliver’s back. Because, somehow, you would still want things to work out with him.” It was obvious that’s what Oliver still wanted, anyway. What were the two even dancing around each other for?

“I don’t know what I want,” Laurel said on something of a laugh, and that lessened some of the sting of rejection at least. She took a step closer and it was impossible not to meet her eyes. “I just know that you are someone I care about, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend for a relationship that I can’t…I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

“And Oliver can’t lose us either, Tommy. Because it’s friends that he needs right now.”

“You shouldn’t have to put your life on hold for him,” he said, unable to help trying.

“I don’t know if anyone’s life can be on hold with what’s been going on in this city lately,” Laurel replied. “But I’m making this decision for me, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

Some part of him knew Laurel felt sure about that. But he couldn’t help frowning across the room at where he’d last seen Oliver.

“Well, it’d be nice if he felt like returning the favor on that whole ‘being there for his friends’ thing.”

Laurel spun around to see what he’d noticed; Oliver attempting to make one of his quiet getaways, though it looked like Mrs. Queen was impeding that. Good for her.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” said Laurel, already starting to walk away.

“That’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” He had a drunk seventeen year-old to get home anyway.

So much for a great night.

—-

Moira had had just about enough.

In the initial weeks since his return, she had tried to be understanding when it came to Oliver. She knew it was foolish to expect him to be the same as he had been, and she also knew there was much he was keeping bottled up about his experiences those five years away.

The majority of his new habits she had attempted to either accept or ignore, in the hopes that if he felt welcome enough back home he might finally open up to them.

But Oliver had taken the space she had allowed him and pushed for more and more. It wasn’t unusual for him to skip dinner with the family, something Thea often pointedly remarked on from her grudging place at the table. Just this afternoon, he’d run out during a luncheon with Carter Bowen and his mother, leaving Moira to make excuses.

And now he was leaving in the middle of the CNRI benefit. A fine impression that would make on the Bowens, not to mention the tabloids.

Before her son could make one of his typical hasty exits, however, he was intercepted by none other than Laurel Lance.

“Hey, are you heading out?”

“Um, yeah, Laurel. Sorry. Something just came up with the club preparations.”

Moira was careful to turn her back to the pair, but her ears were very much attuned to the conversation.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to thank you for coming. It means a lot.”

“Well, CNRI is an important part of the city. I’d hate to see it go. And I wouldn’t want my friend losing her job, either,” Oliver replied.

“Thanks.” 

There was the slightest pause, and out of the corner of her eye Moira could see Oliver just starting to pull away. But Laurel followed the movement with a step forward.

“Ollie. I know after the other day, this might seem hard to believe, but...you are my friend. And I care about you, and I want to help you in any way just the same as you’ve helped me.”

Her son seemed to struggle with what to say for a moment. “That- that really means a lot, Laurel. Thank you.”

“No need for thanks.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go, but it’s, uh, it’s sort of important.” Slightly to the right of Oliver stood Mr. Diggle, and he seemed just as keyed into the conversation as Moira was. “Plumbing problem.”

“Right. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for coming.” Laurel took another step as Oliver moved once again to go. “Maybe I’ll see you around? Since we’re both working in the Glades, now. I usually don’t have any lunch plans, so if you ever want to just grab a bite and talk…”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Really, Laurel, thank you. Um, bye.”

“Yeah, bye,” Laurel said, quieter as Oliver did at last successfully turn and go. She turned her head and seemed to catch sight of Moira, her eyes widening slightly. “Mrs. Queen. Hi.”

“Hello, Laurel.”

“Thanks for coming to support CNRI.”

“It was my pleasure. Although I do have to apologize for my son.”

Laurel smiled. “That’s okay. I’m sure he’s just trying to do his best with the club and everything. There’s probably a lot to adjust to.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Moira considered her over the flute of the champagne glass she’d been given. “You know, I have to admit I’m surprised you of all people would even want to give Oliver the benefit of the doubt.”

Laurel’s smile turned a little wry. “Well, I guess after everything he’s been through, I hope he can feel…” She seemed to search for a word for a time before settling on, “Safe.”

A couple of Laurel’s coworkers were hailing her from over near the refreshments.

“Excuse me.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t the strangest choice of word. And yet Moira had to wonder: did Laurel know of some reason Oliver _didn’t_ feel safe?

The safety of her children was more important than anything, precarious as a position she was in. She hadn’t slept for a week after the kidnapping attempt she’d arranged. The only thing she could console herself with was that whatever Malcolm would have planned would’ve been far worse. So if there was something or someone else threatening her baby boy then she needed to find out.

She didn’t get the chance until later that week when Oliver took her to dinner at his favorite burger place.

“So have you had lunch?” Moira asked as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had grease dribble down her chin and she wasn’t about to break that record now.

Oliver looked across at her. “Well, I’m having dinner now—”

“I meant with Laurel,” she said.

“I haven’t yet,” he admitted, eyes on his plate.

Moira arched an eyebrow. “Why not? When someone offers to spend time with you, it’s polite to make the time for them. And it’s remarkably considerate of her to offer.”

“I know it is. But I—” He broke off, clearly frustrated. “When Detective Lance was questioning me in front of Laurel, I spoke a little bit. About the island. I knew it was gonna change how she saw me, I just hoped…” Her son gave a helpless shrug and set the little that remained of his burger aside.

Moira was quiet for a time. “You feel she’s treating you this way because of pity?”

“I know she is,” he insisted.

Moira shook her head. “Oliver, I don’t believe that Laurel thinks less of you because of your experiences the last five years. I think the reason she’s trying to reach out is she’s worried you think less of  _ yourself _ .”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that. She could feel a part of her heart tearing, knowing she’d been right.

Moira reached across the table and took his hands. “Oliver, I want you to know that we are here for you. We want to see you happy. All we’re asking is for you to meet us halfway.”

“I know, mom,” he said. “I do. I’ll...try to be better.”

It wasn’t exactly a guarantee, but she smiled nonetheless. Moira pulled back, taking another napkin to wipe at the excessive amount of oil she’d picked up from Oliver’s hands. Her son chuckled.

“You can take mom out of the mansion,” he remarked.

She tossed the napkin at him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I know I'm late a day again. I might as well ask: do you all prefer Thursday or Friday updates? At any rate, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

Things had calmed down in her life compared to the past couple weeks. CNRI had a future, Tommy had given up his less than subtle attempts to get her to start seeing him again, and nothing  _ odd _ was going on with Oliver.

And then Mrs. Queen was shot at.

“I wouldn’t worry,” her dad told her when she called. “She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wasn’t even the target. It was a mob hit.”

Laurel gripped the phone tighter. “Mob?”

“Yeah, one of Bertinelli’s guys was trying to do a deal with them. It’s not gonna go anywhere, though. The Queens got more sense than that.”

“Mm-hm,” was all Laurel could really manage.

“You alright, honey?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

And it was fine. It had been the Italian mob, not the Russian mafia. And Oliver hadn’t even been involved, so it was probably just a coincidence. Right?

She was soon distracted by a different friend’s woes; Tommy’s father cut him off from his trust fund only a few days later. Knowing how much the CNRI benefit must have cost, Laurel couldn’t help feeling enormously guilty. Not enough to sleep with him, but enough to agree to dinner on her next free night.

Tommy recommended a new restaurant that was opening called the Cavalli, but if she’d known the wait was going to be so long she would have told him to take them somewhere else. As it was, they’d been standing there for about thirty minutes when a familiar voice hailed them.

“Hey!” Oliver appeared through the crowd leading a woman with long, dark hair. He was dating. Her mind went totally blank for a brief moment, and Laurel had no idea what to feel.

Then he introduced them all, and somehow it got worse.

Helena Bertinelli. Oliver was dating a Bertinelli. Laurel could scream.

If she didn’t know what she did, she probably would’ve overlooked it. It’s not as if Oliver would ordinarily have any reason to know whose families were or weren’t in the Italian mob. Not like her, cop’s daughter who was sat down and told who she couldn’t be friends with at school before she’d even reached the first grade. And the Bertinelli family was right at the top of that list.

Which, knowing what she did, Oliver  _ had  _ to be aware of.

“Nice to meet you,” Helena was saying to Tommy.

“My pleasure.”

It took her a bit of a pause to reply, “Likewise.”

“You look beautiful,” Oliver told her.

“Thank you,” she said with surprise in her voice, not expecting the compliment. If he was on a date, it wasn’t exactly the done thing.

So what was really going on?

When Helena offered to let her and Tommy join them at their table, Laurel didn’t even feel bad saying yes. After all, if it prevented some sort of mob deal from going down, wasn’t that her civic duty?

Not that there was a deal. She had no proof. Yet.

And the dinner got off to a fine enough start. Catching up, reminiscing. And that part she did feel a little badly about, because it left Helena somewhat on the outs.

She seemed to realize it herself, because she asked, “So, how long have you and Tommy been seeing each other?”

“Oh, we’re not,” Laurel said, and she didn’t miss Tommy’s grimace or Oliver’s mouth dropping open soundlessly. Had he thought she was getting back with Tommy? Was that why he was dating? “We’re just friends. Have been for a long time. And Oliver, too.”

Both of Helena’s eyebrows went up. “So you all have known each other—”

“We’ve all known each other forever,” Oliver confirmed. Laurel nodded.

Things ended on an awkward note when Laurel found out Tommy hadn’t talked to Oliver about working at the club and Helena found out she and Oliver had used to date. Tommy stormed off, and she followed him only to be yelled at for making him some kind of project as well as being accused of still having feelings for Oliver. She should have realized he was sore about her turning down a relationship, but wasn’t this exactly the reason she’d done so? The last thing she wanted was some bout of jealousy to destroy the friendship Oliver and Tommy had had all these years.

He came back and apologized the next night, which she accepted easily enough since it hadn’t hurt her feelings too badly. Tommy was going through a pretty serious life change; some bumps and bruises were only to be expected. At least he was trying to do better.

“In fairness, I think we all weren’t at our best last night.” She still had no idea why Oliver had alluded to them sleeping together up at the Aspen ski lodge. If he and Helena were serious that was about the worst move to make, and if they weren’t then it didn’t look very good for whatever cover they were trying to pull off.

“Yeah, you seemed kind of tense at dinner,” Tommy remarked. When she didn’t immediately answer, he added, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to Oliver about working at the club. I guess I just thought it’d be weird, me working for him.”

Laurel waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Helena,” she answered.

“What, you didn’t like her? Or do you not like that Oliver is  _ dating _ her?”

She wasn’t about to take that bait. Laurel had been the one to say she and Oliver could never be more than friends. It’d be crazy to be jealous if he’d decided to move on. He  _ should _ be able to move on...just, maybe with someone else. And at a time when he wasn’t possibly engaged in mob activity. Was that so unreasonable to ask?

“You know what the Bertinelli family is famous for, Tommy? Being at the head of the Italian mob.”

He sat up properly at that. “Wait, really?”

Laurel nodded. “That’s why that motorcyclist shot at Mrs. Queen the other day. The man she was talking to was trying to broker a deal for Helena’s father.”

“Then what would Oliver be doing with her?”

“I have no idea.”

Tommy frowned, clearly not liking anything about this. “Maybe Helena’s different. Maybe she doesn’t have any part in the mob stuff.”

Laurel considered it. She really didn’t want to automatically assume the worst about a woman she hardly knew. But it was such a  _ bizarre _ coincidence.

“Was I really that tense?”

Tommy chuckled. “I think it’s safe to say it was pretty awkward all around.”

“I should apologize. Or maybe that’d make it worse,” she amended when Tommy pulled a face. “I could invite them over? And maybe some other guests. Throw a house party.”

That got a full-blown laugh out of Tommy. “You’ve never thrown a party!”

“Well, maybe I want to,” she insisted stubbornly. “Or you could organize it, and I’ll pay you an hourly wage. Start you on a freelance career if you don’t want to work for somebody.”

Tommy held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to Ollie about the club tomorrow.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

Laurel sighed. “You don’t seem to think I should. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll wait and see how things go with Helena.”

It turned out she didn’t have to wait long.

—-

Joanna came back from a lunch late in the week with her brother in good spirits, but as she approached her and Laurel’s desks her smile slowly started to fade.

“I see,” Laurel was saying to someone on the phone. “Is there any chance you have their names or contact information?”

On her computer screen was a map of the North China Sea, the one the news had posted with that island they’d found Oliver on highlighted.

“No, it’s not for an interview. I just wanted to know if they had any information on comings and goings in the region. Groups, organizations. Uh-huh.” Her friend jotted something down on a notepad. “Yes, you can call me back at this number.”

“Laurel, what are you doing?”

Her friend jumped and spun around in her chair. “Nothing.”

Joanna nodded to the screen still displaying the article. “Yeah, that looks like nothing, alright.”

Laurel’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, I was trying to get in contact with the fishermen who found Oliver.”

“Why?”

Laurel didn’t answer.

“I really don’t think you should try to force this,” Joanna warned her.

“I’m not trying to force anything, I’m just trying to piece together what happened.”

“Well, I doubt they know what all happened in the last five years.”

“No, but they might know who does.”

“Yeah, we all know who does. Oliver.” Joanna shook her head. “But he’ll talk when he wants to.”

“That’s the trouble, Jo,” Laurel said. “I don’t think he ever wants to. And I’m worried what will happen if he doesn’t.”

“Is this because of what happened with Mrs. Queen the other day?”

“Partly,” Laurel admitted.

“Well, word on the street is that shooter’s with the Hood now.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe what happened with Mrs. Queen was an accident. But I really don’t think every single problem in this city can be tied back to Oliver. Even if your dad wishes it could.”

Laurel allowed a smirk at that. “I guess I do sound like him, huh?”

“Just a little.” Joanna perched on the corner of her friend’s desk. “You’ve gotta learn to let these things go or people are gonna start calling you crazy, too.”

“Look, I would love not to assume the worst. To just let Oliver go on dating Helena—”

“He’s dating?”

“Yes,” said Laurel.

Well, that didn’t match up at all. Then again, Oliver didn’t seem to know what he wanted from Laurel any more than Laurel knew what she wanted from him. It was enough to drive the rest of them all mad from watching it.

“Okay,” Joanna said slowly. “Maybe some space is the best thing for both of you right now.”

“Tommy said the same thing.”

That didn’t surprise her.

“Well, give the research a break, too. If you really think there’s something more to all this going on, it’s more your dad’s kind of work, anyway. Let him handle it.”

“And have him haul Ollie down to the station on trumped up charges again?” Laurel shook her head. “No. This has to stay between you and me. Promise me, Joanna.”

She held up both hands. “Alright. But please consider letting this whole thing go.”

“Okay.” 

That tone was not at all convincing. Joanna sighed and looked down. As she stood back up to head over to her desk, her eyes caught the word Laurel had written and underlined on her notepad:  _ Triad _ .

She wasn’t sure what her friend was trying to dig at. The Triad had attacked Laurel last month, not any of the Queens. Oliver might have been there, but that was totally a coincidence.

The next morning she woke up to the news that a mob war had nearly erupted overnight between the Triad and an Italian crime family and that Helena Bertinelli was confirmed to have fled the city, her identity as the Huntress made public.

Maybe Laurel wasn’t so crazy after all.

—-

Diggle and Helena had both been right in their own ways, and Oliver should’ve known better. As it was, he could only be thankful the Huntress had elected to leave Starling City behind, even if he had given her the tools and training to make her far more dangerous than she’d ever been before they met.

And there was nothing he could do to block out her words.

_ I saw the way you looked at her. That kind of love doesn’t die! You still love her. _

He’d told himself any sort of personal connection with someone would have to wait until after he’d completed his father’s mission. As a result, he’d had to push people — particularly Laurel — away. Helena had seemed like a way to feel less alone, and maybe that hadn’t been fair to her.

But what did it mean that  _ Laurel _ was alone right now?

She’d told him nothing could happen between them, and Thea had seemed convinced the CNRI benefit Tommy had thrown had been his way of making his intentions clear towards Laurel. So then why weren’t they together? Laurel had said she didn’t need him to forgive her for sleeping with Tommy while he was away, and there was nothing to forgive, but maybe she did need closure. Proof that he was fine with never being with her again.

Was that something he was willing to give?

He wanted Laurel to be happy above all else. Whether that was with him or not. And right now he couldn’t be with her. All that would do was cause her more worry and doubt the more he had to lie. So maybe he did owe it to her to let her go. Even if it meant lying about how he felt.

He was chasing those thoughts around and around his mind as he drove home from checking on the club that evening. John had put his foot down on him going out as the Hood, so now he had nothing to do with his usually occupied hours.

Though it looked as though they were entertaining somebody by the looks of it, as he noticed a car pulled off slightly to the side when he came up the drive.

“Hello?” He called as he entered through the front door.

“Up here, Ollie!” Thea yelled back from her room. That was puzzling; Thea hadn’t seemed all that excited for him to meet her friends since he’d been back.

Nevertheless he climbed the stairs as directed and soon discovered why his sister was being so open: it was his friend in her bedroom.

“Hey.”

Laurel looked up with a little half-smile. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m getting Laurel’s opinion on what to wear to your club opening,” said Thea from inside her closet.

“Who said you’re invited to the opening of a night club?”

His sister emerged, a superior smirk on her face she’d learned from their mom. “Tommy did.”

“Well, the ink hasn’t dried on his employment papers, so I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Come on, Ollie,” Laurel said as Thea scowled at him. “She just wants to be there to support you. Your mom and Mr. Steele will be there, too.”

He relented. Somewhat. “What kind of outfits has she been showing you?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said with a grin, which was likely the only thing that saved him from Thea’s rage. Laurel stood and added, “But that wasn’t the only reason I stopped by. Do you mind if we talk?”

“Of course not.” Oliver led her out into the hall and down a few doors, slowing as they approached his own bedroom. Laurel did as well, having fallen into step right beside him.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night. I shouldn’t have invited Tommy and I along on your date.”

“Helena invited you. And as it turns out, it really wasn’t meant to be anyway,” he remarked with a healthy dose of chagrin Diggle would have been proud of.

“Yeah, I guess not.” Laurel glanced up at him. “She didn’t mention anything about all that to you, did she?”

Oliver hid a wince. He knew it did not look good for him to be associated with the Huntress so soon after being suspected of being a vigilante himself. “You’d probably have better luck asking that Hood guy.”

“Right.” She leaned her weight against the wall and added in an offhand tone, “My dad said we got pretty lucky the Hood drove her out of town before the, ah, Bratva could get involved.”

That was something Oliver hadn’t even considered, but he certainly agreed with Lance. He also couldn’t remember if the Bratva were something he knew about before the island, but it was best to play it safe. “Bratva. Isn’t that a kind of doll?”

Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the Russian mafia.”

“Oh, yeah. That would make more sense.” He nodded a couple times for added effect. But it was best they didn’t dwell on the Bratva or the Hood for too long. “Hey, I actually wanted to ask you — what’s going on with you and Tommy? Or not going on?”

“Nothing.” She huffed at his disbelieving look. “Really. I mean, he asked me out on a date instead of for sex, and I turned him down. But we’re still friends.”

“Was there a reason you did?”

“Is there a reason I should tell you?”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Laurel, I’m not trying to — I want to be a friend to you, and that includes being there if you need to talk. Like you said at the CNRI benefit.”

“I said I wanted to be there if  _ you _ wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, well that’s the thing about friendships. Sort of supposed to go two ways.” Oliver allowed himself the slightest smirk as she pouted. It was unreasonably cute. “So is something bothering you? Anything I can help with?”

A short laugh escaped her.

“What?”

“No, it’s — I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

“Well, why not?”

“Oliver, I’m not looking for a relationship. Haven’t been, not since...all that.”

His eyes fell to the carpet. He’d been right. “Laurel, I am sorry. And I never wanted to make you think a relationship wasn’t something you could have.”

“But it isn’t,” she stated so matter-of-fact it nearly made him reel back a step. “That’s not just romantic relationships, either. I think my family alone makes a great case for why me and long-term connection with another person doesn’t work out.”

He wanted to say something, knew he  _ should _ say something, but his words failed him. How could Laurel think that about herself? None of what had happened the last five years was her fault.

Laurel shrugged. “Now I’ve made things awkward with Tommy, and then there’s you and me.”

“I thought you didn’t want there to be a you and me,” he said, just loud enough that it might be heard.

“There can’t be, because we’re not—” She cut herself off, looking away from him sharply.

In spite of himself, Oliver felt something like hope. “Not what, Laurel?”

She drew in and let out a breath. “There’s a lot that I’ve been trying to work through, to figure out, these last few months. And I think you have been, too. But there’s a lot we’re not saying to each other.”

His head bowed as reality caught up with him. The Hood. He could never really speak freely with Laurel as long as he was the Hood. And he had to be.

“I still — I want to be there for you. Even as a friend.” A confession of some kind was trying to claw its way up his throat urged on by some voice that sounded suspiciously like Diggle,  _ why not just tell her? _ — but he tamped it down.

“I do, too,” she agreed softly. “I just don’t know how much it can help.”

“Laurel.” He caught her hand as she pushed off the wall. “You being there for me since I’ve been back, it means more than you could know.”

She gave his hand a squeeze before letting it slip out of hers, their fingers tangling briefly before their arms both fell back to their sides.

“Then I guess...I’ll see you around, Ollie.”

Laurel turned and walked down the hall to the stairs, and there was nothing he could do.

That was a lie; he could call her back, tell her everything about why he’d been so strange and secretive since his return, how it was all to keep her and his family safe — but that was it, wasn’t it? He loved Laurel so much that he wanted her by his side through it all, but he loved her too much to put her in danger.

As long as his mission lasted, he had no choice but to let her walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaddaya know, actually managed a Thursday update this time! I just want to thank you guys once again for all the comments. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and wanting to see where it goes. So here's the next part!

Thea was having trouble believing her ears. Had she really heard all that right?

She’d had to keep pretty far back, seeing as she wasn’t supposed to be listening in the first place to her brother’s conversation with his once-girlfriend now sorta-friend. But Thea couldn’t muster up too much guilt; eavesdropping was about the only way she was going to know anything about her brother’s life so long as he continued to just not talk to her about it.

And apparently she wasn’t the only one he wasn't talking to. So much for what he’d said about taking her advice and opening up to Laurel.

God, why was he so  _ stupid _ sometimes? Laurel had turned Tommy down, had all but just admitted she still had feelings for him, and Ollie was, what, holding back?

She stayed hidden in her room until she heard the sound of the front door shutting downstairs and then Oliver’s door down the hall. Then she slipped out of her room, marched down the hall, and barged right in.

Oliver looked up from the computer at his desk. “Thea!”

“What is your  _ problem _ ?”

Her brother frowned. “Excuse me? I’m not the one entering people’s bedrooms without asking.”

“No, but you do a great job entering people’s lives without asking and then telling them to forget it.” She flung an arm out towards the hall. “You know, most people think Laurel’s crazy for giving you another chance, but I’m pretty sure you’re the crazy one for throwing it away.”

“You shouldn’t have been listening to that.”

“Too bad. What?” She added when his frown deepened. “Like you haven’t been spying on me ever since you got back whenever you feel like it. Cause that’s all you want to do. Watch people from afar and then swoop in the minute we do something you don’t remember from ‘before the Gambit’.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” Oliver shook his head, closing out of whatever he’d been looking at and standing up. “But Thea, it is not a good time for me to pursue a relationship with Laurel. And if you really  _ were _ eavesdropping, you know she feels the same way.”

“I know she thinks you’re keeping things from her. Again.”

He looked off to the side, avoiding her glare.

Thea crossed her arms. “Seriously, why would you do that?”

“I can’t explain that to you right now.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, like that’s a surprise. Then explain me this one: why are we less important than the secrets?”

He flinched back, something like shock registering on his features as his eyes darted back in her direction. “Thea, that’s not—”

“Yeah, it is. It is every time you choose them over us, that’s the message we’re receiving loud and clear.”

She stalked out of his room and back down the hall, passing his bodyguard on the way. Thea had to wonder why Mr. Diggle even put up with her brother. Then again, he got paid.

No matter what, she, her mother, and Walter were all stuck with Oliver. At least people like Laurel had a chance to get away once they realized the only relationships he wanted were ones on his terms. With that thought in mind, Thea started clearing out the stash in her room; she wouldn’t put it past him to search and throw it all out in retaliation for her own snooping. She’d just have to use it all at Anna’s tonight. In any case, checking out of the world for a few hours sounded pretty nice.

She called Tommy for a ride home at the end of the night, like so many nights before. Thea always picked Tommy because for the most part he kept his comments to himself unless his disappointment boiled over.

Unfortunately for her, tonight was one of those nights.

“Thea, seriously, what are you doing? This, the benefit. I was kinda hoping — I think we were all hoping that with Oliver back you might see your way out of this.”

“Oh, yeah, like that’s really helped,” she said with an easy laugh. Her limbs still felt so loose and the bitterness couldn’t quite touch her now. “Yeah, the few times I see him and he can’t seem to make up his mind between sweet older brother and hard authoritarian have totally cleared my life up for me. Like I can’t see the mess he’s making with his own life.”

Tommy looked over at her, a frown tugging his lips down. “What do you mean?”

“Well, mom’s had it to about here,” she said, demonstrating by whacking her hand on the roof of his car. “With his disappearing act. He keeps going back and forth with Laurel. I mean, you think he’d have learned the last time not to lie to her, but  _ no _ .”

“He’s lying to her? About what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. She was over and I heard them talking, and she said something about how they’re not telling each other stuff. He doesn’t tell anybody anything anymore.”

Tommy sighed. “Well, you’re sober enough, I guess.”

She waved off his help to get into her house. Her mom and Walter would have to be asleep by now, and Oliver usually stayed out even later than she did. Not that she ever demanded to know what he was doing the way he did to her. God, maybe she would go to college just to get away from him for a while. Like he’d even notice her missing.

It was only a couple days after their fight that Oliver started making noise about wanting to host a Christmas party liked they used to before the Gambit sunk. Thea wasn’t fooled; she could see a distraction for what it was, even if it came in the form of a peace offering.

And Ollie was hardly turning out to be the gift his return once promised.

—-

The holidays would’ve likely passed Laurel by the same way they had the last five years if an invitation hadn’t shown up in her mail one morning. The Queens were apparently reviving their big Christmas party, and she had a feeling this was more Oliver’s idea than anyone else’s.

Oliver. She really had let her mouth run ahead of her on that one. Tommy would be delivering an I-told-you-so if he knew. And he’d be justified.

So she could admit that her worrying and watching and wondering was more than friendly concern. But as long as Oliver kept going along not admitting to anything, she was not about to set herself up to be lied to. Maybe she ought to have just told him she knew and get it over with, but a part of her — the silly, naive romantic that somehow still lived inside even if it was buried deep, deep down — wanted him to be the one to come to her. She wanted to know he really did think of her as someone to confide in.

That wasn’t going to happen if she did a no-show, so she resigned herself to indulging in a little holiday spirit.

The manor looked as festive as she remembered it being for these parties, and various people stood about sipping drinks and chatting. Tommy gave her a nod from over by the bar. There was a woman only a couple feet away, and, unsure if he was up to his old tricks or not, Laurel left her friend alone.

She happened upon Oliver near one of the fireplaces, standing alone. He was always alone these days unless Mr. Diggle was shadowing him, she realized.

Laurel ducked her head slightly to meet his lowered gaze. “Hi. Thanks for inviting me.”

Oliver straightened up with a smile. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without the people I care about.”

She nodded, and a bit of silence stretched between them. It was always going to be like this, wasn’t it? At least until one of them made some kind of move. Laurel’s gaze flicked back over to the bar, but liquid courage wouldn’t give her the nerve to march back over here and say this.

“So the other day, I know that was sort of a lot for me to unload on you,” she began. “I know it really only makes things more complicated. But for five years, I was emotionally...off, because you had died. And the truth is, the last person that I expected to make me feel again has.”

Oliver’s look had turned soft. “I’m happy for you. I want things to get better for you.”

“Thank you.”

Oliver leaned in and let his lips brush her cheek, and Laurel froze, the breath caught in her throat.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured in her ear.

“You too.”

He left to go greet some of the arriving guests, and Laurel went straight to the bar. One drink, since she was driving herself home, but it was desperately needed.

“So,” said Tommy as he sidled up beside her. The other woman was nowhere to be seen; maybe he really had given up that life for good. “That ever going anywhere?”

“I  _ really _ don’t think we should be talking about it.”

“Look, we’re friends, right? All three of us. And I’d rather just like to know what’s going on with you two than try to figure it out myself.”

“Well, I don’t think we really know either, Tommy.” Laurel pinched the stem of her glass tight between two fingers and took a long pull.

“Yeah. Guess I can see that.”

He left her alone to her thoughts. Laurel was getting sort of sick of them, to be honest, but they didn’t leave much room in her head for much else. She’d never really gotten over Oliver; he clearly still had some kind of feelings for her. But he was connected to the  _ Russian mafia _ . Her dad would think she was crazy to even stand in the same room as him if he knew.

Laurel, however, still felt she was missing something huge. Why would Oliver have helped her evade the Triad the night they came to the apartment if he was allies with them? Why would he have involved himself with Helena Bertinelli if she’d been trying to take down her father’s organization which did business with his own? And  _ why _ would he insist on maintaining close ties with her, a lawyer? The more that happened and the deeper she got into investigating it, the more questions and fewer answers she seemed to find.

She’d been planning to leave soon. Oliver had gone off somewhere in the house, Thea had locked herself in her room after the boy she’d invited left, and she wasn’t even sure where Tommy had wandered off to.

But here and there, Laurel gradually picked up murmurings about the news as more and more people kept taking out and checking their phones. A few of the guests moved across the hall to one of the Queen’s sitting rooms with a television, and she found herself following.

The news was covering the aftermath of a hostage crisis, with the culprit a copycat archer who was claiming responsibility for the murders of Adam Hunt and the other former targets of the Hood. Laurel was a little gratified to hear the police had been wrong about that; it just hadn’t made any sense for the Hood to go back and kill them when he’d already gotten what he wanted. He wasn’t an executioner. When he did kill, it was usually in the middle of a fight, and, while she would prefer no casualties, that was another lesson she’d learned from being a cop’s daughter. Sometimes not everyone made it.

“Well, thank goodness those people are alright,” Mr. Steele said, standing by his wife’s armchair. Several people nodded or made sounds of agreement.

A phone started to ring, and Mrs. Queen reached into her clutch. “Hello? Yes, this is she.” Moments later, she gasped. “What happened?”

There was a tense silence, broken only by the murmurings of other guests. 

Mrs. Queen rose from her chair. “Of course, we’ll be right on our way. Oliver was in an accident,” she said to Mr. Steele.

“I’ll get our coats.”

“Is it bad, Mrs. Queen?” Laurel couldn’t stop herself asking.

She nodded. “He was on his motorcycle. They’re telling me it was a truck — I’m sorry.” Mrs. Queen marched out to the front room and called up the stairs, “Thea? Sweetheart, grab your coat.”

“What? Why?”

“Your brother’s in the hospital.”

Moments later Thea’s footsteps could be heard pounding down the stairs. “How?  _ When _ ? What happened?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

Mr. Steele had returned with his and Mrs. Queen’s coats. He helped his wife into hers, then ushered both her and Thea towards the front door. He turned back to address the rest of them. “I’m so sorry, everyone, but I’m afraid we have to duck out of our own party. Please, help yourselves to any refreshments before you go home. Safe travels and Merry Christmas.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, people began talking amongst themselves unabashed. She didn’t see Tommy among them; maybe he’d already gone back to his place for the night. Laurel thought about texting him, but it was probably best somebody get their sleep, not to mention a peaceful holiday.

What an awful time for an accident. But, the more Laurel thought about it... _ was _ it an accident?

Oliver had interfered the night the Triad had been sent to kill her. He’d also been seeing Helena when the Bertinelli family was thrown into conflict and nearly plunged the city into a gang war. If Oliver had anything to do with the mafia at all, it seemed like he was working in opposition rather than with them.

Was this the Bratva’s way of reining him in?

Laurel grabbed her coat out of the guests’ closet and hurried out the door, fear holding her heart in a vice grip. She had to see him. Nothing else mattered.

—-

He hadn’t been in this much pain in a long time. Oliver had thought his training to survive the island had prepared him for anything his city could throw at him. He’d been wrong, and it had cost him.

This copycat archer was better than him. Worse still, he seemed to know more about the mission than Oliver did. How could he hope to fight that, even once his body was no longer broken? He’d failed the city tonight, and he told John as much while watching the scant flurries fall past his hospital window.

If he had one small consolation, it was in the truce he and Thea had reached when their family had visited. She was right; they were both different people from who they’d been before the island. Just as he wanted her to accept the new him, he had to accept that she wasn’t a baby anymore. And he would have to take the bad with the good. He could hardly hope to help her when he hadn’t even been able to help himself in the duel tonight.

Oliver froze at the sound of someone knocking on the doorframe to his room. He wasn’t quite fast enough at turning around before Digg made him aware of who it was.

“Miss Lance.”

“Mr. Diggle. Hi.” Laurel’s eyes jumped from Diggle to him, roving up and down his body and lingering on the crutch he was using to keep upright. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Should you really be out of bed right now?”

Oliver felt some of the tension leak from his shoulders as he allowed a sheepish grin. “Probably not.”

She made a face but didn’t scold him. There was a bit of silence. Oliver hadn’t expected her to visit, at least not tonight. Though perhaps he should have, what with Laurel’s stated commitment to being there for him. But he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him like this.

“Would you like me to step out for a few minutes?” John asked.

Laurel shook her head. “Oh no, I don’t want to make it harder for you to do your job.”

“I can stand right out in the hall. Won’t be an issue.”

“Thanks, Digg,” said Oliver.

John gave him a single nod, then turned and exited the room. Laurel stepped further into it. Under her coat, she was still in the red dress she’d worn to the party. She must have come straight from there once she’d heard. He hadn’t taken the chance to tell her how beautiful she looked in it, and now with his own body bruised and battered he felt even more inadequate.

Another silence stretched on for a short while.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Laurel asked out of the blue.

“What?”

“About the other guy. You could probably press charges.”

“Oh.” The fictional truck driver that had hit him. She hadn’t meant the copycat archer. Of course she hadn’t. And yet now that Oliver could put that out of his mind, it didn’t escape his notice that Laurel seemed to have something on  _ her _ mind. She wasn’t quite meeting his eyes and kept twisting her hands together. “Laurel, is everything okay?”

When she at last did look up, he wasn’t prepared for the tears in her eyes. “How can you ask me that? How can you ask me if everything is okay when you’re in the hospital because you almost got yourself killed?”

He frowned. “I didn’t plan to get in an accident.”

She turned away. “I know you didn’t.”

Why did he feel like she didn’t believe him?

He couldn’t press it without drawing attention to the idea that this might all be a cover-up, so instead Oliver said, “I’m sorry for worrying all of you.” 

And he was. He felt more sorry for that than anything. He could see now in her tears and the dejected slump to her shoulders what his activities had been doing to her. To his family, his friends, everyone he loved. That was something else Thea had been right about; he  _ had _ prioritized his father’s mission over them. He’d made them all feel less important.

And for what? A list of names that someone else had written, a murderous rival sent to strike him down. If his father had wanted him to succeed, why had he not warned him of these enemies? Why had he left him so thoroughly in the dark? He couldn’t possibly expect Oliver to accomplish the task he’d set him.

He had nearly sacrificed everything for the wish of a delirious, dying man.

“But it- it won’t happen again,” he heard himself say.

Laurel went still. To her point of view, it had to seem like an empty promise at best. Who could control whether they got hit by another vehicle?

But when she faced him again, it felt as though she was searching for something in his expression. “It won’t?”

Oliver shook his head, still not quite believing his own daring. “No. I’m done letting my actions hurt the people in my life.”

Laurel’s shoulders sagged, this time in relief that washed over her features. She took two steps toward him and then stopped, remembering his injuries.

“Thank you.” Laurel’s hand came up like she meant to cup his cheek, but she stopped short and rested it on his left shoulder. “I should let you get some rest.”

“Okay.”

She walked away again, but this time she paused at the door to turn back and smile. And Oliver was momentarily stunned by it.

She was happy. Genuinely happy, probably for the first time he could remember in a while. It wasn’t till this moment that he realized there had been a tightness to her smiles, a crease in her brow or around her eyes when she looked at him the last few weeks. She couldn’t know he’d been the Hood and yet  _ somehow _ something had made her worry for him. How could she still know him so well?

Oliver managed to return it with a smile of his own, and Laurel’s brightened for just a second before she slipped out the door.

Maybe he did have something to thank this copycat archer for. A brush so close to death had shown him just what he was doing to his family and to Laurel. But he was alive. He had a chance to make things right.

It was the only thing he knew to do, now that his father’s mission had failed. If he could keep Laurel smiling like that, maybe that failure wouldn’t matter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Know this is coming at you all a little late for a Thursday, but just needed to give it another pass through to make sure it was ready. I hope you like this chapter, and I'll just say I hope you all are really excited for next week because I already know I am! Thanks for reading and commenting as always!

She could have kissed him.

Laurel entered her apartment feeling as though she was walking on a cloud. She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of the couch, continuing onto her room to change out of the dress she’d worn to the party and into her pajamas. It was a comfortable, feel-good night now that she knew the worst of it was over.

Oliver’s injuries were the one damper on her mood, and truthfully the only reason she’d held back. They weren’t quite out of the woods yet. But she had hope.

He said it was over. That he was done. And Laurel believed him. Maybe that was naive of her, but she’d looked into his eyes and seen the guilt there as he’d admitted to the pain he’d been causing his family. He’d recognized just how deep he was and that it was past time to get out.

And truthfully, if the Bratva hadn’t killed him tonight, they would  _ have _ to let him out, wouldn’t they? One horrific accident wouldn’t have raised many eyebrows, but two in quick succession would be bound to look suspicious to anyone with a brain.

Oliver’s fame could possibly be a benefit in this case. After all, the mob mostly got by without ruffling too many feathers among the city’s elites. Killing the son of one of the wealthiest families in Starling would bring all the justice money could buy down on their heads. It was a cynical reality, but if it saved him in this instance Laurel was willing to swallow that bitter pill.

The next few days would better determine things. She would have to keep her eyes and ears out for anything remotely unusual. Laurel believed him, but she wanted to be sure nothing got in the way of his leaving that part of his life behind.

So long as him quitting the Russian mafia stayed under wraps, her father or anyone else never needed to find out. They wouldn’t understand it had been something beyond Ollie’s control. Eventually she was going to have to talk to him about this or hint to him that he could confide in her. She wanted him to know that she was on his side.

Somehow they were going to have to find someone to remove that tattoo for him. That was top of the list on what had to go. As long as he carried it on his chest he was a marked man.

But those were things that could wait. Oliver needed time to recover and to get used to the idea that he was safe. She didn’t want to spring the news on him that she knew the truth when freedom was only just barely in his grasp.

Laurel climbed into her bed and tried to settle in for sleep. This Christmas had been an emotional rollercoaster, yet somehow just like the movies it seemed as if everything might just turn out alright. She could only hope. They deserved a miracle or two after the last five years, Oliver perhaps most of all.

Maybe she should have kissed him.

—-

It was a rare early night for Quentin. He had no new leads on their vigilante problem since the fight the last night, and their CSIs had pretty much all agreed there was a good chance they wouldn’t be seeing either archer up and about any time soon judging by the evidence from the fight. The DNA had been too contaminated to get anything useful off it, and didn’t that beat all.

So without much to do, he’d given heavy consideration to heading for the bar — but then he’d had a thought.

“You grab dinner yet?” He asked in lieu of a greeting when Laurel answered her phone.

“No. Why?”

“I’ve got some pasta I’ve been meaning to use. Why don’t you come by?”

“Sure.” Laurel sounded skeptical at best, which probably said something, but he pushed that aside for now. “Need me to bring anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just give me a ring when you’re on your way over.”

“Alright, see you then.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

It had been a few weeks. Definitely enough time for Laurel to not get that suspicious about him asking anything. The last couple of times he’d stopped by her work or apartment he hadn’t been able to find a trace of anything Bratva, so it looked like she really had been telling the truth about not getting involved. Still, he’d promised Rivera he’d try and get something for him.

Laurel was over soon enough. She’d picked up half a loaf of some Italian bread anyway, which would be rude to say no to so he took it with a thanks.

“Been a while since you dipped into the culinary arts.”

“Yeah, well, haven’t had a lot of free time lately. If you wanna set out the plates, we’ll see how rusty I am.”

Dinner wasn’t so bad. He could’ve added something to the sauce, but about all he had in his cabinets was salt and pepper. Laurel made no complaints.

She asked him how work was, and he told her all about their vigilante troubles, railing against the incompetence of the forensics team who’d been unable to pull a DNA match from the scene.

“And don’t even get me started on Pike.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“It was his stupid idea to keep quiet about the second archer. Said he didn’t want a panic — well, people are panicking now that they don’t feel we’re on top of this situation. Not like we can come out and say the department lied, that’d set off a whole ‘nother panic for a different reason.”

“Uh-huh.” Laurel was watching him with a smile.

“Anyway, enough about me.” He took a swig of water, then asked, “So how’s that client of yours doing? The one hanging around mafia captains?”

“Well, they haven’t been my client for a while,” she reminded him. “But they did let me know they got out of that situation recently.”

Quentin sat up a bit straighter. “They got out?”

“Yeah.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“I know you find that hard to believe,” his daughter said.

“I find it impossible to believe.”

“But they have promised that is over with. Should all be fine now.”

“I’d like to see how long that lasts.”

Laurel shook her head but had no reply.

“Well, since they’re on the straight and narrow now, think they’d wanna come in and talk to the boys in organized crime? Maybe identify who it was they saw with that tattoo?”

“I don’t really think that’d be safe for them, dad,” Laurel answered with a frown. “They only just got out, and they’d be the first place the Bratva would think to look for a leak.”

“Yeah, yeah. Was worth a shot.”

“Glad to know you don’t think your evening was a total waste,” Laurel muttered to her plate.

He was about to fire off a retort, but his radio crackled to life. “ _ We’ve got a suspected 207 at the Queen Consolidated building. _ ”

“207’s a kidnapping, isn’t it?” Laurel asked him. He grabbed the radio.

“This is Lance. I can be there in fifteen. What are we looking at.”

“ _ Briefcase of Walter Steele was abandoned in the elevator. Maintenance man found it about five hours after Steele logged off the Consolidated servers. Wife is saying he hasn’t been home. _ ”

“You think this family would give me a break,” Lance muttered to himself. He glanced back at Laurel, who appeared frozen in a kind of horror. “Look, I’ll take care of it, honey. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

They both knew he was lying.

—-

It had been three days since Malcolm took Walter and three days since Moira had slept.

She’d known something like this would happen. Walter was just too clever for his own good, and in these final months Malcolm would not allow even the most minor interference to stand in the way of his plans. Now she was well and truly trapped into his monstrous scheme, for any sign of disobedience would cost Walter his life. She couldn’t be responsible for that, not when it was her own fault he’d been mixed up in all this.

Her children had been trying their best to console her, though she’d sent them both out of the house today. They couldn’t waste all their time on her, not when they couldn’t hope to understand the depths of her inner turmoil. And truthfully she wanted little more than to just lay in bed in silence for a while.

It wasn’t meant to be. There was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Queen? You have a guest,” Raisa called.

One of the downsides to being the only one home. Moira rose from her bed and drew a robe over her shoulders. At the bottom of the stairs stood Laurel.

“Mrs. Queen, hello.”

“Hello, dear. I’m afraid Oliver isn’t home right now.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll come back some other time. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“He shouldn’t be too long. I’d hate to make you drive out all this way twice.” Moira indicated the sitting room with a tilt of her head, then led the way there.

“I haven’t actually seen him since he got out of the hospital. How’s he doing?”

“Making a steady recovery. The doctors say he should be back to normal in another four weeks or so. We were lucky. In that case,” she couldn’t keep from adding with a sigh.

“I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Steele,” Laurel told her. “There still hasn’t been a ransom notice?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“It might not have been as obvious if they didn’t want police involvement. Was there any sort of private communication you might have received that you weren’t expecting in the last few days?”

Moira’s voice was perfectly calm and steady as she replied, “I think if I knew anything that could help my husband, I would have told the police straight away.”

Laurel looked down. “Of course. I didn’t mean—”

Moira sighed again. “I know you didn’t, dear.”

“No, but I am sorry. I really only meant to say if you’d seen anything unusual lately, that could be a sign. Some organizations communicate in symbols rather than writing. So if you received a package you weren’t expecting, or maybe Oliver did—”

Moira raised a single brow. “Oliver? Why should he know anything about it?”

Laurel stared back with wide eyes. “No particular reason. I- I guess I just thought, since he’d been kidnapped before, maybe it’s related.”

Somehow Moira thought that was more of an excuse than the real reason Laurel had brought it up, though she had no idea just how related the two incidents were. But that was just another secret she had to keep, the same as her knowledge of exactly who had had Walter abducted and why.

Laurel stood from her chair. “I’ll just try and catch Ollie some other time.”

“I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

True to her prediction, he arrived at the house only half an hour later and was disappointed when Moira told him he’d missed Laurel.

“Did she say why she came over?”

“Not exactly. She was concerned about Walter’s disappearance. I think she gets some of that curiosity from her father,” Moira noted. Then she thought, why not ask? “You wouldn’t have happened to receive any suspicious packages recently, would you?”

Oliver frowned. “No?”

A ghost of a smirk graced her features. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ll have to give Laurel a call, see if she’s free tomorrow. I’ve been meaning to see her since I got out of the hospital,” Oliver said. Then his expression turned uncertain. “Unless you want me around.”

She shook her head. “I want you and Thea to be happy. Call Laurel, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, mom,” said her son. He walked out of the room while retrieving his phone from his pocket.

It was perhaps the strangest turn of events since Oliver’s return, that he and Laurel had ended up on such good terms. Perhaps slowly falling, even, back into a romance. Her son had come back from that island a changed man, and perhaps Laurel had recognized it which was allowing this second chance. Moira could only hope. It had always been her belief that Laurel made her son better than even he thought he could be.

But then, why was Laurel so concerned about Oliver, so convinced there was more going on? Just what  _ was _ her son up to?

—-

Oliver had been more than reluctant to suit back up as the Hood despite Diggle’s increasingly blatant hints. He just didn’t want to do that again to his loved ones, especially in the wake of already losing Walter.

There was a certain irony, therefore, in one of his loved ones asking him to go back out there risking his life again.

Laurel was perhaps the most ironic choice of them all. It was her troubled look standing in his hospital room that came to mind whenever he contemplated seeking out this Dark Archer again, the fear in her voice that told him it wasn’t worth it.

But she didn’t see Oliver Queen when she looked at the Hood standing there in her darkened apartment. She saw a vigilante who could help her work around the law to get to the truth of Joanna’s brother’s murder. He would find a lead for her at the least; he couldn’t bring himself to deny her fully. But the police would have to take things from there.

Having taken the file she’d given him, he started to walk away.

“Wait!” Laurel took two steps and stopped, seeming to respect the boundary between them on an instinctual level. “How do you usually choose the people you go after?”

Oliver froze. He supposed he should’ve expected a cross-exam from Laurel, but this wasn’t a question he would have predicted. Nor did he have a ready answer that didn’t involve the list.

“ _ Is there someone you’re concerned about _ ?” If Laurel was asking for help on another case in a roundabout way, perhaps he could avoid answering altogether.

“There is.” She paused. “There’s another friend of mine. He’s — well, he’s the son of one of the wealthiest families in the city, but he’s never been all that involved in their business.”

He frowned. “ _ Then what’s the problem _ ?”

“He’s been in some trouble recently. I don’t  _ think  _ he’s done anything wrong, but he’s mixed up with bad people, and I’m worried they might make him do something because of the leverage they have.”

This was not at all what he’d expected. And he had no idea what to think. He couldn’t even guess who she was describing, unless…

Was Laurel talking about  _ Tommy _ ?

He was Mr. Merlyn’s son, and Merlyn Global was a giant in the city. He’d been struggling to adjust to his new financial reality ever since his father cut him off. Was he in some kind of debt to someone? How could Oliver not have known?

“ _ Your friend isn’t my target _ ,” he said, knowing he needed to reassure Laurel even if she’d just dropped a bombshell on him regarding someone they both cared about. He noticed her visibly relax and wondered how long she’d been worrying about Tommy alone. Didn’t she know she could’ve come to him about it?

Or maybe Tommy had told her not to. He’d felt embarrassed enough asking Oliver for a job.

So he’d have to be careful how he went about solving this problem for his best friend. With the club still under construction, he could take the time to renegotiate Tommy’s salary higher. If that didn’t work...

These were all things he should be thinking about somewhere else, not in front of Laurel, loathe as he always was to leave her company. “ _ Was there anything else you were curious about _ ?”

“No.” Laurel glanced down. In the shadows it was hard to tell, but he thought her cheeks were turning a faint pink. He could feel his spirits lift at that sight alone. “Thank you.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” he answered sincerely. Laurel’s head jerked back up in surprise, but he was already to the window.

Oliver hadn’t meant to say it. He wasn’t even sure why; it wasn’t as if he was planning to make a full return as the Hood.

Of course, by the end of the week that was proved false. Laurel and her investigating had pulled him right back in, and only just in time to stop Garfield Lynns from murdering the rest of his former squad in revenge.

He regretted not being able to stop Lynns from letting the flames consume him for good, and even more disappointing was his lack of progress on the Tommy issue. His friend had declined the offer of a raise, particularly in light of their unforeseen expenses due to the fire at the Verdant, and yet he hardly seemed worse for wear. If anything, Tommy was taking more and more to having a real job and planning things like the firefighters’ benefit. Nothing appeared to be bothering him at all. So why was Laurel concerned?

His preoccupation must have been apparent as he and Digg sparred, for his friend backed off and asked, “Something on your mind?”

Oliver stepped back and took a few minutes to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. “When Laurel put me on the firefighter case, she also told me she was worried about a friend who was in some kind of trouble with the wrong crowd. Seemed to think the Hood might pay him a visit.”

“Which friend?”

“She didn’t say, but it was pretty obvious she was talking about Tommy.”

John frowned, his hands landing at his waist. “What makes you say that? He in some kind of trouble?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not from what I can tell. But he’s the son of one of the wealthiest families in the city, even if he doesn’t do much with his family’s business, and he’s had some ups and downs lately at the least.” He walked over to where he’d left his water bottle. “I might have to do some kind of digging to see what Laurel really meant, because he is putting on a really good act that nothing’s wrong.”

“Maybe nothing is wrong,” Digg offered.

“Then what was Laurel talking about?” Oliver meant it rhetorically, and he turned away as he took a sip from the bottle.

“You ever think she just might be talking about you?”

He only barely managed to avoid choking on a mouthful of water. “ _ Me _ ?”

When he looked back, John gave the slightest shrug. “You said yourself she’d been worrying about you a lot. It was one of the reasons you didn’t want to put that hood back on.”

“Nothing bad has happened to me since I did, nothing that could make her start worrying again. And there’s been nothing in the last six months about me or that has happened to me that would be on the Hood’s radar.”

“Well, Walter disappearing might be of interest.”

Oliver frowned. “What, and she thinks I’m involved?”

“Maybe she’s scared the Hood will think that.” Diggle left the training mat as well and started pulling his shirt back over his head. “Too bad you can’t tell her why not.”

Oliver tried not to roll his eyes. If John thought he was being subtle, it needed work.

“The Hood told her I’m not a target. And proving I’m not in with a bad crowd shouldn’t be hard. I’ll just spend more time with her.”

“And what do you say when you need to duck out for something? You’re not very good at those excuses.”

“Well, that is why I leave them to you,” Oliver answered.

John shook his head.

“You got a better idea, Digg?”

“Yeah,” his friend said. “Being honest.”

With that, Diggle headed up the stairs and out of the foundry. Oliver scowled and took up his bow for some practice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I think this should be a chapter you've all been waiting for. A couple notes; firstly, I switched around the order of a couple events in the episode being covered ("Vertigo") because they worked better for the story and honestly they made more sense in that order to me anyway? I think you'll be able to follow along regardless. Also, I do not know Russian, and what you'll see in the text is a phonetic spelling rather than Cyrillic. For anyone who does know Russian, feel free to yell at me for any mistakes. Anyway, without further ado, I really hope you guys enjoy this one! Thanks for reading!

John was pretty sure this plan had about fifty different ways it could blow up in Oliver’s face. But it wasn’t easy to reason with a man in love.

Laurel was worried about Oliver, so Oliver was trying to do what he could to keep her from worrying. That part, John didn’t so much have a problem with. Truthfully, Oliver’s concern and care for the people he loved was one of the few things that convinced him he hadn’t totally cracked on that island.

The problem was he was going about it all wrong.

Where before, Oliver might have seen Laurel once a week or so, now he was scheduling regular meetups. Lunch, coffee. No dinners yet though that probably had more to do with Oliver’s standing nighttime engagement than anything else.

The first time he’d swung by CNRI to make one of those offers John had tagged along, curious to see how Laurel was going to react.

It didn’t disappoint.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Oliver had asked as he drew up to her desk. Before Laurel had had time to turn around let alone reply, he’d plunked a tall paper cup down onto the surface. “I brought coffee.”

Laurel had blinked at it. “You brought coffee to talk for a minute?”

“Well, I thought we could walk around a little bit,” Oliver continued on blithely. “They let you have breaks here, right?”

“Yes, though typically they like more than a second’s notice.” She’d lifted the lid of the cup and peered inside. “Is this an americano?”

“Yeah, four shots with hazelnut. That’s how you drink it, right?”

“I drank those in college when I had to cram for an exam,” Laurel had told him. “I’ll be up until two a.m. if I have this.”

Oliver had looked down at the floor. “Oh.”

Laurel had sent a look John’s way as if trying to ask what this all was about. He hadn’t really been able to answer.

Eventually she’d sighed and looked back to Oliver. “I can probably take a short walk. There’s a coffee place on the next street over.”

Oliver had looked back up, positive energy seemingly restored. “Great. I’ll buy you a new one. Whatever you like now.”

“I have my own wallet,” Laurel had said as she’d gathered up her purse. 

Oliver hadn’t pursued the issue. He couldn’t, not without defining whatever this was — a friendly gesture or a date, he had a feeling the man hadn’t really known. Somehow the short walk there hadn’t been awkward. Laurel had asked about the club renovations, and Oliver had asked about the de la Vegas. They’d touched briefly on Thea’s upcoming birthday party and what she was planning to do as an official adult. 

“Honestly, I don’t think she has any plans, even for college. That’s probably my fault,” Oliver had said. “I’m not exactly the best role model in that regard.”

“College isn’t for everyone,” Laurel had replied. “Thea just needs to find something she’s passionate about. She’s already got all the connections she could possibly need.”

“Thea’s passions seem to extend to partying and illegal substances,” Oliver had stated bluntly.

“That’s not the only thing she’s been doing while you were gone. You know she was on the archery team for a little bit? Got kicked off for playing hooky too many times, but she was pretty good. And hey,” Laurel had added as Oliver had held the door of the cafe open for her. “I know a guy.”

“That’s not funny,” Oliver had said as John had struggled to disguise his snort as a cough. That had garnered a wink from Laurel and a frown from Oliver, respectively. John had even gotten free coffee out of it when Laurel had looked to him after she’d ordered.

“Just a black coffee for me. Thank you, Miss Lance.”

“It’s Laurel. And it’s the least I could do, really. I never actually thanked you for your help when the Triad broke into my apartment. I got really lucky you and Oliver were there,” she’d added with sidelong glance at Oliver as she sipped her drink. Oliver hadn’t chosen to comment.

John had tailed their walk back at a respectable distance, not trying to listen in. He didn’t know how they had so much to talk about, what with Oliver concealing whole parts of his life and activities. But they seemed to be making do as they’d been out another five times since. 

There wasn’t exactly a good way to tell if Laurel had grown less concerned about Oliver in the meantime, though she did send him the occasional questioning look whenever Oliver’s back was turned. If anything, he wondered if Oliver’s sudden increased presence around her was only making her more suspicious.

Any time John tried to bring Oliver around to the idea of just telling Laurel what was really going on, the man found some excuse to head upstairs to the club and talk to Tommy. So John made sure to follow and hover just in Oliver’s line of sight, a silent reminder that he couldn’t run from this for very long.

Today was one of those times. As a discussion about the restoration process wound down, Oliver glanced at his watch.

“I have to go meet Laurel for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything urgent. Oh, Digg,” Oliver added, like he’d only just had the thought. “Feel free to take a lunch break or something. I should be alright for an hour.”

John didn’t dignify it with a response, and Oliver turned and left the club.

“So are they dating now or what?” Tommy Merlyn asked in his direction without actually looking at him. The laugh in his voice was sharp and discordant.

“It’s not really my business, Mr. Merlyn,” John answered. He went downstairs to avoid continuing that talk.

The one thing puzzling him was what had led Laurel to think Oliver was in a bad spot. She clearly didn’t believe he was the Hood. And other than Walter going missing, there wasn’t too much to raise an eyebrow at on the surface.

So the Walter angle. Did she have some kind of information about his disappearance they weren’t privy to? Or was it a wild guess on her part borne of Oliver’s odd behavior the last few months?

Then there was her mentioning a bad crowd her friend had fallen in with. The only person Oliver had been hanging around recently who fit that description was Helena. But it had been a good month and a half since Helena had been in town, so who had Laurel really meant?

She’d been more affected by Oliver’s hospitalization than even his own family. Yet she couldn’t know why he’d really been hospitalized. Or could she? There was obviously something she wasn’t telling Oliver or the Hood, just as Oliver wasn’t telling her the whole truth. They were both just watching the other and waiting.

Whenever that wait was over, John hoped Oliver wouldn’t find he’d ruined a good thing he could’ve had.

—-

She wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Oliver’s seemingly random insistence on spending so much time together might have been a welcome change, if Laurel didn’t know what she did. Since she did, however, she couldn’t help wondering if there was some kind of ulterior motive at play.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a good time with him; they’d always been close even before they’d dated, and truthfully she was always going to like being around Oliver. She certainly didn’t feel as though she was in danger in his company.

And the more he was around her, the less time he had for any sort of Bratva business, so really it was a win-win. Even if she still didn’t know what his status regarding the organization was. Or why they’d taken Mr. Steele and what sort of ultimatum they might have given Oliver to get him back.

Maybe Oliver was seeking her out because he was conflicted. Making that sort of decision, she couldn’t imagine what it had to be like. If her presence gave him some sort of comfort, she wouldn’t begrudge him that. She just wished he’d open up to her, let her actually help him. Not that she had a specific plan in mind.

If she went to her father now, Oliver would be in Iron Heights faster than she could blink. He wouldn’t want to hear any of her arguments about the island and the coercion Oliver must have faced. And that wasn’t even touching on what might happen to Mr. Steele as a result.

Perhaps Oliver’s family was a better option. If Laurel could convince him to talk to his mother, Mrs. Queen might have some idea of how to make a deal with the Bratva to release both Mr. Steele and Oliver. It might cost quite a sum, but if it meant they’d be safe she couldn’t imagine Mrs. Queen wouldn’t do it.

These thoughts loomed large in her mind the night of Thea’s birthday party, but, as seemed to constantly be the case, Laurel was forced to set them aside when disaster struck the Queens again; Thea left her own party while drunk and under the influence of Vertigo and was picked up by the cops after a car accident.

No one had been hurt, but that was where Thea’s luck ran out. Her case was being heard by Judge Brackett, and he was currently running a re-election campaign with a hardline stance on crime. Laurel went to the initial hearing to support Oliver’s family, but she couldn’t see an easy way out of this for Thea.

So she was surprised when Oliver showed up unexpectedly the next morning at her apartment, asking her to see if her dad could pull some strings.

“Laurel, I am working on something on my end, but...if it doesn't work out, this is my best chance to help my sister. Please.”

She did her best to conceal the spike of fear that went through her. Something on his end? What exactly did that entail?

If she knew Oliver at all, she knew he would be willing to do anything for his family, including embroiling himself even deeper in the mafia just to use their resources.

He was waiting on her answer. “I’ll see what I can do,” was the best she could offer. She wanted it to be more, wanted to tell him that it would all be fine and she would take care of it, that he didn’t need to throw himself in harm's way.

“Thank you.” Oliver left her apartment soon after that, and there was something about the set of his shoulders that threw her worrying into hyperdrive. She had to know what he was doing.

Laurel threw on the first clothes she could find overtop of her pajamas and returned to watch through the peephole as the elevator doors shut down the hall, then rushed out of her apartment to the fire door and down the steps. If she could get to her car quick enough…

The door banged against the wall as she raced out of the stairwell and to her parking spot. Laurel started the engine and pulled out of the garage, rounding the building just as Oliver climbed in and shut the passenger door. Mr. Diggle started out into traffic and Laurel followed, making sure to memorize the look and license number of the car in case she needed to put some space between them.

This was crazy. For all she knew, Oliver was going right back home or to the club. She couldn’t follow him and Mr. Diggle around all day. But the further they went the less it looked as if they were headed back to Queen Manor or even the Glades. They were driving towards the warehouse district.

Without taking her eyes off the road, Laurel got her phone out of her purse and dialed.

It was picked up on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Tommy, I need you to do something for me,” she began.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a simple favor?”

“It’s simple on your end. All I’m asking is if I don’t call you back in—” she paused to think it over. They were driving out pretty far by the looks of it. “Two hours, call my dad.”

“Wait, what? Laurel, what are you doing? Where are you?” Tommy demanded.

“I’m meeting a client, and the neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest,” she lied. “It should be fine.”

“ _ Should _ be? Why couldn’t your client meet you at CNRI?”

“She has young kids and couldn’t get a babysitter. I have to go.”

“Laurel—”

“Two hours. Wait two hours.” With that, she hung up and refocused her efforts on the car three ahead in the line of traffic. It merged into the turning lane, and Laurel had no choice but to glide up right behind it. She’d have to hope Mr. Diggle wasn’t checking his rear view mirror too carefully.

Laurel slowed to just under the speed limit as they left most of the other cars behind. Buildings gave way to a line of warehouses looming large and foreboding on either side of the narrow road. The car ahead rounded a bend, and she stopped just before it for a good thirty seconds. She didn’t want to lose them, but she couldn’t look as if she were tailing them. When she did turn the corner, she just caught sight of their taillights near the end of the lane.

With a sinking heart, Laurel watched Oliver’s car pull into the parking lot of a warehouse that definitely wasn’t owned by Queen Consolidated. She pulled off into the lot before it and waited about ten minutes before reversing back out and entering the lot they’d left their car in. It looked as though she’d gotten lucky; Mr. Diggle wasn’t waiting in or by the car, so there was no one to see her. Laurel parked several spots away and as far from the warehouse as she could.

There were no windows on the side of the building facing the lot. Laurel crept up and stuck close to the wall, leaning to check for any sort of guard first before rounding the corner.

There were a set of windows on this side, so Laurel peered down into the large room. The floor was a level below, so it was hard for her to make out much more than the tops of people’s heads. She could easily pick out Oliver and Mr. Diggle, and it looked as though there were at least two other men in the room, the shorter of whom was doing the talking.

She couldn’t hear anything being said distinctly. As she watched, a third man led a fourth down a set of stairs near the back. The fourth man was forced to his knees once he’d been brought before the others, and more talking ensued. The short man gestured to the one on his knees.

Oliver nodded, then walked around behind and placed his hands at the man’s neck. There was a sharp motion. A second later, the man’s body hit the floor.

A strangled cry left her that she couldn’t hope to stop. Shock, denial, betrayal — she’d believed Oliver was an unwilling participant at worst, that he could  _ never _ — 

But as five heads whipped up in her direction, Laurel realized her mistake. She froze for a crucial second, then her mind worked past the fear and screamed at her to  _ run _ .

She cleared the corner at a sprint. Two of the mafia men had already raced around the other side to meet her. Laurel swung her purse straight into one of the men’s stomachs whose breath left him all in a  _ whoosh _ . The second one caught her arm, and she twisted around to ram him with her shoulder.

The first man wrenched her arms behind her back and lifted her. Laurel shouted in protest and tried to hook one foot around his ankle to knock him off balance. A hand was clamped over her mouth to muffle any further sounds so she concentrated all her effort on kicking and lashing out. Laurel heard at least one pained grunt as her limbs connected with whatever she could reach, but the tight grip never slackened, and her feet were never quite able to touch back on the ground.

Dimly she knew the panic was beginning to cloud her judgement, but she was powerless to stop them dragging her back into that room with their boss and Oliver and the man he’d just killed. Her heart pounded wild and erratic in her ears like wings beating in a vain attempt to fly away.

The door to the warehouse slammed, closing her in. Her ankle caught on a railing and the hand over her mouth was dislodged as they fought to stop her from clinging on. Laurel’s captors were calling down to their boss in Russian, she was shouting and yelling again, but one voice rose above the rest, harsh and booming.

“Let her go!  _ Vy ne navredit' yey! _ I said release her!”

Laurel was forced to her knees, the gasps of breath she took loud in the sudden silence. Her eyes darted from the bald Mafioso to the dusty windows high above them to Mr. Diggle with his ramrod straight back and stoic expression—had he known all this time?—anywhere but the man who had given the order.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Oliver, to see the cold rage and command that had just been in his voice. To have to face a reality where all her fierce hope and belief was in vain.

But then he spoke again, and she nearly didn’t believe her own ears. “Honey…I thought I told you to wait in the car.”

Laurel’s neck nearly snapped with the speed at which she turned to him, absolutely no idea what expression was on her face.

“She is your woman?”

Oliver did not answer for the moment as he instead made quick strides towards her. He held his hands out palms up and for a single second allowed the careful mask to slip, meeting her eyes with a look of open pleading. And Laurel knew, no matter what had just happened in this room, she was not going to die here.

In the next breath she’d reached for him and was pulled up to her feet and to his side.

“So sorry for the interruption,” Oliver finally said, turning them both around to face the other man, the picture of cool confidence again. “I thought I’d made it clear that this was strictly business, but she gets…curious. I’m sure you understand.”

“Perhaps you should have explained the business was with friends,” said the Russian. He gestured at one of the men who was clutching his side, and Laurel hid a satisfied smirk in Oliver’s shoulder. With a hand resting on his chest she could feel his heart hammering underneath the calm veneer he was presenting.

“Again, my apologies. She knows it’s her safety that I value above all else.”

“Then it is best to keep her safe at home. Business is not the place for loved ones and their sensitivities,” the man advised. His mouth twisted into a leer as he added, “Particularly not when she can sing like this one.”

Laurel clenched the fabric of Oliver’s shirt into a fist and forced herself to bite the inside of her cheek.

“Well she is  _ moya krasivaya ptitsa _ ,” Oliver replied, the warm, even teasing tone completely at odds with the way his hand dropped from her waist to her hip and tucked her in all the closer to his body. “I trust that my favor will be repaid.”

“You have proven your interest. We are men of our word.”

They exchanged what she could only assume were goodbyes in Russian, and, with a nod to Mr. Diggle who heaved the dead man’s body up into his arms, Oliver led her back up the steps of the warehouse and into the sunshine. It seemed surreal even now that she was still alive.

For whatever reason, he’d covered for her. Out of sentiment, out of what she didn’t know. But he had just killed a man for the mob, and she had witnessed it, and he knew that.

She had to get away.

Laurel waited until they were out of sight of the warehouse and closing in on Oliver’s car, hers not too far away. She didn’t think Mr. Diggle would try to stop her, but her best chance was to make her move while he was still holding the dead man’s body and couldn’t help the man he worked for.

Oliver took out a set of keys in his pocket and unlocked the trunk. Then Laurel dropped an elbow into his gut and stamped on his toes with her heel.

He gave a shout of pain which was echoed by one of surprise from Mr. Diggle, but she didn’t stop to look back, already running. Her keys were in her hand — but then another hand had closed around her wrist.

Laurel whirled back, but he caught her other hand before she could even think to use it, the keys twisting harmlessly away from him.

“Let me go! Just let me go, Ollie, I won’t- I won’t tell anyone what I saw.” She hated the quaver in her voice, her panicked gasps for breath as she struggled uselessly in a hold she’d known was entirely too strong. This whole time despite everything she knew, she’d never been scared of him, and only now did she realize what a dangerous game she’d been playing.

“What were you doing here?” Oliver demanded. “How did you find this place?”

She had little choice but to answer. “I followed you after you left the apartment.”

“Why?”

“Oliver, you told me you were working on something to help Thea from your end, outside the law. Was I not supposed to find that a little suspicious?”

“What had you suspicious about me in the first place?” He narrowed his gaze. “You’ve been acting different for weeks now. I just didn’t know what you were thinking. But you haven’t even asked me who those people were back there.”

“They’re Bratva, and so are you,” she asserted. Faintly, she heard Mr. Diggle swear. “I noticed your tattoo the night of the house arrest party, and I did some research. I’ve known practically since then.”

Oliver’s grip on her finally did slacken. “You knew?”

“I knew you were mixed up with- with this, I knew it. I just didn’t want to believe you could—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish but neither of them missed the way her eyes fell on the body Mr. Diggle had finally put in the trunk.

“That I could what?” Oliver prompted. “Kill him?”

“You didn’t have to,” she insisted. “I said I’d help you get Thea out of serving jail time. What was the point of that if you were going to  _ murder _ someone?”

“Laurel, it’s okay.”

“Give me one reason why any of this is okay!”

Mr. Diggle had his arms crossed and looked to be waiting for an answer, too.

Oliver sighed. “It’s really not what you think. Either of you.” Then he reached down and pressed some point near the man’s neck. The man she’d thought dead gave a great gasp of breath, and his eyes fluttered before falling closed in sleep.

“That’s a neat trick,” Mr. Diggle remarked. “You going to teach me that one day?”

“No,” said Oliver. “We’ll need to arrange a new identity for him. Get him out of the city.”

“You just lied about killing him to the Bratva,” said Laurel.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so then...you’re working  _ against _ them?” She desperately needed some kind of confirmation on this, because she still had no idea what it meant now that Oliver knew she knew. “Walter’s disappearance, you being hospitalized over Christmas, the...Bertinelli stuff — that was because you’re against them?”

Oliver was watching her with an increasingly perplexed look. “That wasn’t about the Bratva. I’ve barely been in contact with them since I got back home.”

Laurel stared at him in sheer disbelief. He’d barely been in contact. How,  _ how _ was that possible with everything that had happened? “Then what  _ have _ you been doing?”

Oliver’s expression turned a little panicky, and his eyes flitted to Mr. Diggle.

“You gotta tell her, man,” his bodyguard said.

Laurel looked between them, her arms crossing over her chest. “Tell me what?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry, guys. I know this is coming at you about a week late. Unfortunately midterm stuff has made it hard for me to keep up my writing speed. Gonna try and get the next update out in the next few days regardless. But just want to thank you all again for your patience and for commenting! So onto the big reveal to Laurel, at last!

By her estimation, Oliver looked pretty cornered. There was no getting out of the truth with her this time, though, and all three of them knew it. Laurel watched his eyes flick once towards the warehouse the Bratva were using before looking back to Mr. Diggle.

“Not here.”

“Foundry?”

Oliver gave a short nod. “Fine. Laurel, I’ll drive with you over to the Verdant. Or Digg can go with you, if that would be better,” he added quietly, eyes dropping to the ground.

It was something to consider. Oliver’s actions and motivations still warranted an explanation and until she got it, was it really a good idea to be alone with him? At the same time, she was half-convinced as soon as she let him out of her sight he was going to bolt. Though she supposed he wanted her to go with either him or Mr. Diggle for the exact same reason.

Laurel knew it was crazy, but the more she looked at him...the less she was afraid.

“No, I’ll go with you.”

He glanced back up, a shadow of a smile flitting across his features for a brief moment. Then he turned to give Mr. Diggle some instructions on sending the unconscious man in the trunk away from the Bratva. Now that they were both aware Oliver hadn’t killed that man, Mr. Diggle seemed entirely relaxed. That was a good sign she wasn’t making a terrible mistake, right?

Laurel got into her car and Oliver climbed into the passenger seat. They backed out of the warehouse lot and began driving towards the Glades without a word spoken between them.

“So what’s at the Verdant that’s magically going to explain all this?” Laurel eventually asked just to break the silence. “Apart from alcohol.”

Oliver’s mouth twisted into something of a smile again. “We don’t have any right now. Tommy says the first shipment comes in next week once we get the main floor refinished.”

Laurel nodded. Then it hit her so suddenly she nearly slammed on the breaks. “Tommy!”

Oliver’s head whipped around sharply. “What about him?”

“What time is it? Has it been two hours?”

“Two hours since what?”

“I called him when I was following you two out and told him to call my dad if he didn’t hear from me in two hours.”

“You told him you were following me to the Russian mafia?” Oliver demanded.

“No! I made something up about a client in a bad neighborhood. Why would I have told him about you if I’ve been keeping quiet about all this for months?”

He released a breath and let his head fall back against the headrest. Then he looked at her again.

“Why  _ have _ you been keeping quiet?”

Laurel didn’t say anything at first. “I guess I wanted to be sure I knew the truth first. Something like that, it would destroy your life.”

“Why wasn’t the tattoo proof enough?”

“Because you got it on the island.” She could see him raising his eyebrows at that, and Laurel rolled her eyes. “Well, you definitely didn’t have it before. I figured you must have been forced to join in order to survive out there, and I wasn’t going to throw you to the wolves for that.”

“There’s a lot of stuff I was forced to do,” Oliver said, voice low. “That doesn’t make me any better than the people who do it of their own free will.”

Laurel couldn’t think of anything to say to that. She pulled into the lot behind the club, and they walked inside. Tommy was standing near the bar and looked up when the door opened. “Laurel! What, uh, what brings you by?”

“I was down by Big Belly Burger and saw her leaving one of the apartments, so she gave me a lift,” Oliver lied.

Laurel took it from there. “And while I was here I agreed to look over the papers before you guys have your grand re-opening.”

“Well, didn’t that work out nice,” Tommy remarked.

A phone began buzzing, and Oliver took his out. “I have to take this.” 

He stepped away, and the grin on Tommy’s face instantly dropped. “Laurel, if you ever do something like that to me again — you’re lucky I didn’t send your dad right after you!”

“I know. But it’s fine, I was overreacting. Shouldn’t have even called,” she muttered, unaccountably embarrassed now that the danger had passed. She’d really let all those months of fear get to her.

“Are you really okay?”

“Yes.” Laurel felt reasonably confident in that assertion. Oliver hadn’t been working for the mob, and she was finally getting her answers. Even if she had no idea what those answers could be or why they involved the Verdant. If he wasn’t a part of the mafia it wasn’t like he was using it as a front for something. Right?

Just as she was starting to wonder if there’d been a point to coming here at all, Oliver returned to the main room.

“Laurel, if you could step into my office?”

She followed him back behind the bar to a door with a keypad set to the side. Oliver put in the code and the door opened to reveal a very dark basement.

“Right. This isn’t foreboding at all,” Laurel said under her breath. But she squared her shoulders and accepted Oliver’s hand to navigate down the stairs. The point of no return was far behind them; she was in this to the end, for better or for worse.

The lights came up, and the first thing Laurel noticed were  _ arrows _ . Green ones.

Oliver hadn’t been acting suspicious because he was an active member of the Bratva. Oliver had been acting suspicious because he was the Hood.

He was watching her as she took it all in, his expression unreadable. But it was clear he was waiting on her.

“I know I should be shocked or overwhelmed or  _ something _ ,” she said. “But…” Laurel shrugged. “I guess I’m relieved?”

“Re- relieved?” He echoed, like he couldn’t quite believe it. She couldn’t either.

“Well, of all the criminal enterprises, stopping bigger, worse criminals doesn’t seem like such a bad one.”

“Laurel, I’m a vigilante,” he stressed.

“Yeah, a vigilante I have worked with and trust.” She shook her head. “Most of the people in my life thought that was crazy, but...I was always drawn to you. Now I know why.”

Oliver didn’t look like he knew what to say.

“Have there been things I wish you hadn’t done? Of course. But I’ve also been there for Emily Nocenti and Peter Declan and his daughter. I’ve seen the real change you have brought to people in need. How can I condemn that?”

“I’m sorry I scared you. At Iron Heights,” he clarified when she didn’t speak.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Well...you did stop.”

“I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you,” he stated. Just like in the car, he wasn’t giving himself an inch.

She thought she was seeing that damage he’d spoken of now.

The better she understood it all the better she could figure out how to help, so she moved on. “How did you pull it off the night of the party? You couldn’t have left the manor.”

“Diggle.”

“Ah.” Laurel nodded. “So he knows everything.”

“Yeah. He should be back soon, that was him on the phone earlier.”

“Does anyone else know? Your family?”

“No. Uh, Helena knew, but that was a mistake. No one else was supposed to find out.”

“Ever?”

He was quiet. Laurel tried not to let that sting. She was only here because she had forced this issue. She’d known that.

“I thought about it. About telling you,” Oliver said. He took a step towards her as well. “Almost every night. I just...”

“You didn’t want me to see you differently,” Laurel finished for him. “You shouldn’t have worried. I could already see how much that time on the island changed you.”

He shook his head. “No, but that’s the thing, Laurel. It didn’t.”

The same door they’d entered through opened just as he opened his mouth to continue, and they both looked up as Mr. Diggle came down the steps.

“So, things making a little more sense now?”

“Yeah.” Laurel turned to Oliver, trying to think of something to say to keep the mood lighter now that they were no longer alone. “For the record, I was onto you. And if you hadn’t lied, you could have saved me about three months worth of stress over nothing.”

“She’s right,” Mr. Diggle said, not even trying to hide his smirk. Laurel wondered just how long he might have been arguing her case behind the scenes.

Oliver nodded with his eyes on his toes. “I’m sorry.”

Laurel held in a sigh and instead walked up to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and waited for him to meet her gaze. “Ollie, stop being sorry. Start being better.”

“Okay,” he agreed in a murmur. She wasn’t sure, knowing what she did about him, how he could still look so vulnerable. But then, Ollie had always had such a big heart hiding beneath all the layers of his facades.

Laurel drew him in closer in a hug. “Good.”

Oliver was the Hood, and that was going to change a lot of things, but for the time being all she could focus on was the feeling that she was finally back on the same page as her old friend and that Oliver was hugging her back just as tight. The rest could wait, if only for a few moments.

—-

Oliver was having trouble believing this wasn’t just some dream.

Laurel was here. In the base. She  _ knew. _ And she was hugging him.

His own arms had gone around her automatically, yet he still wondered at how this was possible.

Eventually she stepped back. Oliver tried not to miss the feel of her too much.

“Okay. You. The Hood. That is going to take some getting used to.”

“Needing a minute’s pretty normal,” said Digg. Oliver shot him a look. He had a feeling his bodyguard was enjoying this.

Didn’t he see that this changed everything about the mission? Everything that he’d done to try and keep his loved ones safe and removed from all of it? Maybe he should have known Laurel would find her way into danger — she did a good enough job of that on her own with her work — but he wasn’t sure how to proceed, now that she knew him not just as Oliver Queen, but the Hood.

The separate parts of his life had suddenly collided, and he didn’t know where that left them.

“So you made a fool of yourself at the dedication of the science division not because you didn’t want to take a job at the company but because you were already too busy doing all this,” Laurel reasoned aloud. “And the Verdant is, what, an alibi?”

“Partly. It also gives me an excuse to be in the Glades and to come and go more easily without detection.”

She nodded. “And your plan is…?”

“To save the city,” he answered.

Laurel didn’t say anything to that. When she spoke again, it was to ask a different question entirely. “Why the Bratva today, though? If you haven’t been with them since you’ve been back.”

“I’m having them arrange a meeting with the Count. He’s the one that made Vertigo and the reason Thea is this close to jail.”

“And you want to, what, talk?”

Oliver glanced again at Digg, who made a gesture with his head that seemed to say  _ go on _ . Right, being better.

“I want to draw him out, go through the motions of a fake drug deal, then follow him back to his base as the Hood and stop his whole operation.”

She frowned. “That sounds risky.”

He shrugged. “I’ve gone up against worse odds.” Maybe Laurel still hadn’t quite come to terms with believing him as a fighter. “I can bring him in.”

“And what happens if the Count takes a deal with the DA to turn over a list of all his distributors to lighten his sentence and your name comes up?”

Oliver froze. That was not a scenario that had entered his mind.

Diggle was giving him an expectant look now as well, and he knew why; the plan was for him to be at the deal as well.

“Then I’ll have to—”

Oliver stopped again.

“Have to what?” Laurel was watching him, but she didn’t look confused. She looked like she knew exactly how that sentence was going to end.

But he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even think about doing something like that in front of her. Maybe Laurel was relieved for now he wasn’t some mob boss, but how long would that relief last the more people he killed? He didn’t know how he would be able to come back from that and face her, with her knowing now.

But there was more than that difference. Laurel knew. She was part of this. Which meant any investigation Lance or anyone else continued into the Hood’s identity could have consequences for her, too. Oliver wasn’t planning to come under suspicion again much less get caught, but who was to say what might happen outside of his control?

For every count of murder, it would add to her own sentence.

He searched around for something, any other way. “McKenna knows I’ve been asking around for information. If the cops ask why the Count has my name, I’ll say I was looking for something to help Thea.”

“McKenna Hall?”

“Yeah. I ran into her at the station. She said she’d just made detective.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Laurel frowned. “Well, it’s not airtight, but it’s at least something.”

“You’re not happy with it.” Oliver could see that from the thin line of her lips as she frowned, the way she held herself.

“It relies entirely on McKenna cutting you some slack, assuming my father even lets her be the one to make that call. So yeah, I’m not thrilled with those odds. Why not just let the cops handle this one? We’ve already got a plan to get Thea out of a prison sentence. It won’t be any good if you end up there in her place.”

“If I don’t do something, the Count will still be at large and Vertigo will still be on the streets.” She had to understand that.

But Laurel sighed. “Stopping one dealer, even if he’s the one who created the drug, is not gonna wipe out his inventory overnight, Ollie. You know that, right?”

He set his jaw, stubborn. “It’ll be a start.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged.

“What do we need to do to get ready?” Digg asked.

“Mostly we have to wait to hear back from the Bratva. They’re the ones setting things up. But we’ll need a tracker to tag the Count with.”

“And I need to talk to my dad about Thea,” Laurel added. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have an answer from him.”

Oliver reached out to touch her shoulder before she could go. “Laurel, thank you.”

He hoped she knew that gratitude was for far more than the favor he’d asked of her.

“It’s gonna be okay, Ollie.” The words seemed to have as much of a relieving effect on her as they were intended to on him. “It really is.”

She made for the steps, and at the top turned back to look at him once, something like the beginning of a smile on her face. Then she was gone.

Oliver let out a breath.

“So, not the end of the world, was it?” Digg asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled.

It wasn’t the end of the world. But it was the beginning of something. A whole new way of being for him, now that Laurel knew his secret. He couldn’t hide in the dark anymore.

—-

“Thea, can you come down here?”

Thea rolled over on her bed and groaned. The last thing she really wanted was to come down for a little pow wow session with her brother, mother, and maybe even their lawyer. If she was going to jail she was going to jail, and why not? Not like she had anything better planned for herself.

But by the time she trudged down the steps, all she found were Oliver and Laurel. They were sitting on one of the couches side-by-side, talking quietly and angled in towards each other.

She cleared her throat and they both looked up. “So what is it?”

“My father was able to get Judge Brackett to back off his hard-line stance,” Laurel told her.

“Your father hates me,” she pointed out.

“No,” said Laurel while Oliver echoed her. She smirked as she added, “My father hates him.”

Oliver nodded as Laurel indicated him with the tilt of her head.

Her brother and Laurel explained how this meant she could avoid jail time by agreeing to community service at CNRI under Laurel’s supervision. They spoke in turns, practically finishing each other’s thoughts, and there was no missing how their knees were almost brushing.

Something was different about them.

It was Thea’s first impulse to refuse the offer. After all, if she really wanted to stick it to her mom, getting out of jail time wouldn’t do it. But she was even more curious about what was going on with her brother and Laurel, and the best way to find out more would be to stick close.

“Fine,” Thea agreed.

Oliver blinked, and she thought this might actually be worth it just for surprising him. He thought he knew everything about her, didn’t he?

“Okay, good. I’m glad you’re taking this opportunity to better yourself,” her brother said, and she didn’t bother stopping herself from rolling her eyes. He could be so sanctimonious sometimes. “It was really good of Laurel and Detective Lance to arrange this for you,” he added pointedly.

And yeah, maybe he had a point there. It wasn’t like Laurel owed her anything, but she’d gone out of her way anyway. “Thanks,” she muttered, staring at her socks.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you for your first shift soon, Speedy.” Laurel stood and Oliver did as well to show her out.

Thea sat there a few moments more, puzzling over whether she’d made the right call. With her life not totally over, her mom could go on pretending that nothing was wrong like she had been for years. Just like Oliver seemed to go back and forth between acting different and pretending like nothing had changed from the time he had left to now. Did they really think she couldn’t see past all the lies?

She stood up and made to leave the room, but stopped just before she cleared the archway, backing up and then peering out into the foyer.

Mr. Diggle had stopped both Oliver and Laurel and was speaking quietly to them. Too quiet for Thea to hear, to her frustration. But it had to be serious.

Her brother’s jaw was set in a stubborn line as he nodded, and the glimpse of Laurel’s face that she caught as she turned from Mr. Diggle to Oliver looked worried.

Thea watched as her brother placed a hand on Laurel’s arm and said something, to which she nodded. Then Laurel wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

She must have said something to him, because Thea just picked up Oliver’s reply of, “I will.” Then they both pulled back and stared at each other for a moment. Laurel looked to Mr. Diggle, then said goodbye to the both of them and left. Oliver and his bodyguard followed out the front door right after.

Thea left her hiding spot and continued up to her room, trying to work out what she’d just seen. Were Oliver and Laurel together now? And if so, why did Laurel seem so worried? Why were they even trying to hide it?

Just over a month ago things had seemed so strained between them. What had happened to now not being a good time for a relationship? Thea didn’t know how Laurel stood Oliver’s constant changes of heart, because it was driving her crazy just watching it from the sidelines.

Well, if she wasn’t going to prison to show her mother what she thought of her treatment of her dad and Walter, then she could stick around and keep an eye out to make sure Oliver didn’t do something similar to Laurel again. She owed the other woman her freedom now, after all, and Thea had always liked her a lot. Their whole family had.

She’d have to make sure she didn’t let slip to Ollie that she was eavesdropping or spying like last time. So no giving over to any outbursts, no matter what she heard. Thea felt her determination rising nonetheless, and there was a grim smirk on her face as she settled back down on her bed.

If her mom and brother wanted to have their secrets, then so could she.

—-

Maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising, but nothing about this Vertigo situation was going to plan. Though things had taken a far worse turn now than someone finding out Oliver’s identity.

John only barely got them out of there before the police closed off the whole perimeter. That was a feat all on its own what with Oliver practically being dead-weight. He had no idea how much Vertigo the Count had managed to get into his charge’s system, but the quicker they got it out of him the better.

John half-carried and half-dragged Oliver from the car and to the back door of the Verdant’s basement, shouldering it open. There was no need for him to try and fumble for the lights, though; they were already on, and Laurel was waiting in a chair. She stood as soon as she caught sight of them.

“What happened?”

“Your dad.” He accepted her help in getting Oliver’s limp form down the steps. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know how things went as soon as possible. I couldn’t sit in my apartment.”

“Fair enough.”

They heaved Oliver up and onto the medical table.

“Oliver’s got some herbs from the island. In that box over there. They’re good for toxins.”

Laurel ran to the box and was back again in moments. In that time, John had begun to better assess Oliver’s condition. Pulse was elevated and his breath was coming quick, but no indication that anything was shutting down. It could have been a lot worse.

“How does a person take them?”

“In a minute.” He nodded to the restraints attached to the sides of the table. “Can you get that on his wrist?”

“Why?”

Oliver jerked violently, and Laurel had to dart back as John wrestled his arm back down.

“That’s why,” he grunted. She moved to do as he’d asked right after. Once that was done, John turned his attention to preparing the island herbs the way Oliver had shown him. It wasn’t a guarantee that it could reverse the effects of Vertigo, but it had to be better than simply leaving him to sweat it out.

Now that he was safely fastened down, Laurel stayed right by Oliver’s side, stroking his arm and talking softly. To John’s surprise, it seemed to be working; Oliver’s breathing had calmed and he lay still, only occasionally mumbling or groaning in discomfort.

“It’s okay, Ollie. It’s gonna be okay.”

Oliver’s head turned to the side, like he was seeking out her voice. “ _ Krasivaya _ ... _ moya krasivaya ptitsa _ .”

Laurel shot John a helpless look. He came over to the table with the herbal mixture.

“We got to get him to swallow this. Should help detoxify his system.”

She nodded and made room for him. There was a lot of bargaining involved in getting Oliver to raise his head and drink the foul-tasting herbs. Laurel ran her fingers through his hair, continuing her soothing mantra until John was finished.

Oliver coughed once or twice as the bowl was taken away from his lips, then rasped, “Laurel.”

“I’m here.”

“My Laurel. My pretty… _ ptitsa _ ...”

After a time, Oliver fell totally silent and slipped off to sleep. John checked his vitals to make sure they weren’t losing him, then stepped back and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Laurel dropped into the chair by the computer and let her head hang low between her knees for a few moments. Then she looked back up. “You wouldn’t know any Russian, would you?”

“I know when I hear it or see it,” John replied. “No idea what it means.”

Laurel sighed. “It was a long shot anyway.”

She wheeled the chair over closer to Oliver’s table and stopped there, a frown on her lips.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I mean, it’s just — I was so relieved he wasn’t with the mob, I didn’t really think about how much danger he was putting himself in anyway.” She looked back at him. “I mean, why even do it?”

“Does he need a reason?”

She thought on that for a few moments. “I always thought Oliver cared about the city. It’s his home. But it’s one thing to want things to get better and another to put on a hood and try and make it happen all while risking arrest or death. Even if he learned how to do those things on the island, most people would have wanted to come home and just leave all that behind.”

“I think he does, too. But he can’t. Not yet.” John pushed off of the table he’d been leaning his weight on and walked over to the box Oliver kept for his suit and other items from the island. He removed the weathered copy of the list and walked back over to Laurel, placing it in her hands.

“Before he died, Oliver’s father gave him that. Said it was a list of everyone who’d ever done something bad to the city for their own gain. He asked Oliver to bring them all to justice in his place.”

“His father did that?”

He nodded. “It’s been driving everything he does ever since.”

She spent some time thumbing through the pages, stopping whenever she came across a crossed out name. John wondered if she was going back, doing a mental tally of the Hood’s various exploits.

“Not as altruistic as you were hoping?”

“Well, I doubt Count Vertigo is in here. The Royal Flush Gang doesn’t fit the profile, either.” She closed it and drummed her fingers on the book’s cover. “And he went after Garfield Lynns because I asked him to.”

“Yeah, but try convincing him that means he should leave all that list stuff behind and see how far you get,” said John.

“So what happens when he gets through this book? If that’s even possible,” she added. “What’s the plan then?”

“Think it’s to hang up the hood,” said John. “He’ll be done. City saved from those people.”

Laurel was frowning. “But the city won’t stay saved.”

“No,” he agreed.

“If he looks at it as something he can completely eliminate forever he’s gonna burn out. It’s the first thing they tell you at CNRI.”

He’d thought the lawyer an idealist like Oliver with all her efforts to take on more than was perhaps wise to chew. But there was a realist hiding underneath it all, if only because of the harsh realities life had already dealt her. Maybe he’d been relying too much on Oliver’s account of Laurel Lance; maybe he ought to have made his judgments for himself.

“Yeah. Well, that’s why he reached out, I think. He needs help. I try to do that the best I can.”

She looked at him a little more closely. “Shouldn’t you wear something to hide your face, then? Even if you’re not as instantly recognizable as Oliver Queen, that doesn’t matter much to a security camera.”

“Suppose it doesn’t.” He shook his head. “But I’m not out there in the field that much.”

“So he really is alone, most of the time,” she said, her eyes on the ground.

“He’s been alone for five years. Gonna be hard to break that habit.” He checked his watch. Usually the time waiting for Oliver to recover enough to go home dragged on, but with someone else’s company it was flying by. “I’ll stay with him till he’s up if you need to head home. Don’t feel like sticking around is a requirement.”

“I’m okay. But thank you, Mr. Diggle.”

John pursed his lips. “Something tells me we’ll be having a lot of these talks. And you’re part of this now. You can call me Digg, my friends do.”

“I’m glad I qualify,” she replied.

Oliver shifted and muttered something in his sleep again, and Laurel reached for his hand before he could grow too agitated. He settled back down.

“I didn’t even ask, but he’s still out there, isn’t he? The Count?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes stayed on Oliver’s face. “Oliver’s not going to stop trying to catch him.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Would it matter if it did?” She wasn’t really asking. She already knew.

Any of his lingering doubts that this was a bad thing, that Laurel wouldn’t know how to cope, left him then. She’d been coping for years.

John drew in a breath. “Well, welcome to the team, Laurel.”

She raised her head and smiled back at him. “Thanks, Digg.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I apologize completely for sort of letting this one go for a while. Mostly it just had to do with schoolwork getting in the way, plus I ended up deciding on the path I wanted this story to go on as opposed to a different one (which has now been spun off into its own little WIP folder, so I guess look out for that fic in the future someday. But I wanted to get an update out to you guys before the New Year, and I hope it makes your 2019 a little better. Enjoy!

Oliver did not want to be awake. If awake meant feeling like this, he never wanted to be awake again. But his body stubbornly fought its way back to consciousness as it had been trained to do.

“Mornin’,” said Digg, and Oliver’s gaze refocused on him. A few feet beyond him, he noticed another figure in a chair. Laurel. Her head was resting on one shoulder and her eyes were closed.

He sent Digg a questioning look.

“She wouldn’t go home till you woke up.”

That sounded like her. Oliver grimaced. He didn’t really relish the idea of Laurel seeing him like this ever, but especially not right after she’d learned his identity. He couldn’t afford to be seen as weak or damaged right now.

“You think you can uncuff me? Not going to kill you,” he added. “Promise.” He could only hope he hadn’t done something particularly dangerous while he was out of it.

Digg unlocked the restraints, and Oliver pushed himself up to sitting. He had to blink the spots from his vision, and the room was still swaying dangerously as he placed one foot after the other down on the ground.

“You're standing. That's pretty impressive,” Digg remarked. “The Count only got you with half a dose, but you still sweated out a small swimming pool coming down.”

As he spoke, Laurel’s face scrunched up and her legs stretched. She blinked her eyes open, then sat up straight as she caught sight of him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He cleared his throat when he heard the croaky quality to his voice.

She stood from the chair and drew up to Digg’s side. “How are you feeling? Should you be up right now?”

“Probably he should be giving it a few hours,” Diggle replied before he could. He fixed Oliver with a look as he continued, “A near drug overdose isn’t something you just walk away from.”

“Well, I take it the SCPD didn’t bring the Count down.”

Digg frowned, which was about all the answer he needed.

“But maybe they should,” Laurel said nonetheless. “Oliver, you got really lucky last night. If the Count had gotten you with more than a half dose or if Digg couldn’t get you both out of there, you’d either be in jail or dead right now.”

He hadn’t been able to stop an eyebrow raise. So it was Digg now? Apparently they’d forged an alliance while he’d been unconscious, which he wasn’t sure whether to be glad about at the moment or not.

“Thea—”

“Is fine. Safe. Not going to jail anytime soon,” she cut him off before he could start. “If that’s what this is about, then you’re already done. So why do you need to be the one to take the Count down?”

“Why do you still want him to be out on the streets?” He shot back.

“I don’t. But you need to decide what this is about. What all of this is about.” Laurel turned from him and marched over to one of the computer tables. His list was sitting on it and she picked it up.

“Well, you two talked a lot,” he said.

“We had a lot of time,” Diggle replied, steady and calm as ever.

“And we’ve lost a lot of time.” He walked over to the syringe Digg must have pulled from him. It still held some of the potent drug. “We need to get this analyzed if we want to know more about where the Count is manufacturing his product.”

“We can do that after you stop home, man,” Diggle argued. “You’ve been out all night. Your family’s got to be worrying by now.”

“We can get the sample analyzed, but you need to take it easy for now,” Laurel agreed.

Oliver sighed, but handed the sample back over to Diggle. He agreed to be taken back to the manor, where he did end up having to answer a few awkward questions from McKenna when she claimed to have spotted him at the bust, but he was more in danger from his irate mother than the law for that. Later, he and Digg swung by Queen Consolidated to drop off the Vertigo sample with Felicity, and then Oliver had his friend return them to the Verdant. If he was supposed to be resting, he could do that just as well there as at home. And it would make things easier once they got the results back.

Felicity called with the information he needed to figure out the Count’s location just after dark. Diggle tried to stop him, but Oliver left the base on his own. There wasn’t any time to lose now that they had the information to bring the Count down.

He fought his way through various men, his pace slower than usual but not enough to allow them the upper hand. The Count tried to reason with him as to why he should let him go, even arguing that they were one and the same. Oliver took a vicious pleasure in injecting the man with Vertigo so he could see for himself why it wasn’t the public service he claimed.

The police arrived, and Oliver kept his grip on the Count, knowing it was his only leverage if he’d let himself be surrounded. Lance ordered him to drop the syringe, to stop the drug dealer from feeling the effects of his own product.

“ _ He deserves this! _ ”

“Not according to the law. The people that think you're a hero, people like my daughter, if they could see you now... You're no hero. You're what I always said you were — a killer.”

Oliver gritted his teeth, but threw the Count down in Lance’s path, fleeing before his team of officers could fire on him. He raced away from the warehouse on his bike, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the scene he’d left behind as possible.

Lance’s words stung more than usual. Maybe it was the knowledge that Laurel  _ could _ see him now, even more clearly than Lance. Would she have called him a killer if she’d been standing there in her father’s place?

Diggle had left the base by the time he got back, and if Laurel had shown up she’d gone home since, so Oliver changed and took a taxi home to avoid driving any more than he had to. Hopefully he’d be well enough by morning, since Thea was counting on him for a ride to her first shift at CNRI.

Oliver woke the next day hardly feeling any ill effects like he had been, so he showered and changed in time to wake Thea up for some breakfast before heading over to the law office.

“I’ll be back to pick you up at six,” he told her.

“Seven,” Laurel countered. “We’ve got a lot of work for her to do.”

“Then let’s make it eight,” he said as Thea groaned.

“Alright.” Laurel was smiling, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And actually, I need to borrow you for a minute, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t remember signing up for community service,” Oliver joked to cover his unease. Laurel didn’t say anything as she led him back to an empty conference room and shut the door behind them.

As soon as that was done, she whirled around. “What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

“Diggle called me, Oliver. You went out as the Hood last night when we all agreed you weren’t in any state to.”

He shook his head. “The Count had to be stopped before he took his drug citywide. You and Digg both know that, and you’re gonna have to trust me to know my limits.”

“That is asking a lot since one misjudgment from you could land all three of us in jail. If you don’t get yourself killed,” she added.

He frowned. “You never worried about the Hood putting himself in danger before.”

“And that was my mistake, but do you really not expect me to care about  _ you _ putting yourself in danger?” She took a step closer. “You’re one of my oldest friends, Ollie. I- I care about you. And I don’t want to go through losing you again.”

Oliver closed his eyes. This was one of many reasons he’d been set against letting his loved ones in on his secret. He had to be able to do whatever needed to be done, no matter the risks.

“Laurel, this is what my life is now. It’s something you have to accept if you’re going to be on the team.”

“No.”

Oliver stilled. “No?”

“If this is all just for your own personal vendettas, then you can’t ask people to risk everything on it with you,” she said. “And if it’s not, then this can’t be your mission, your way. On a team, you don’t get to make unilateral decisions just because you don’t like John’s advice.”

She walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob. “You can’t call this a team and then treat us like your subordinates, Oliver.”

Laurel left the room, and after a short pause, Oliver did likewise. He headed out the exit instead of back to the main room and her desk, not really wanting to bump back into Thea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to bump into Laurel, either.

Every time he went out there, it was a risk, no matter whose decision it was. Couldn’t she and Digg just be happy he’d caught the Count?

Yet not killing the Count and barely managing to escape were not good enough, not when Laurel and John were just as at risk as him if he were to ever be caught himself. Oliver had already reached this conclusion, but it occurred to him what Laurel was truly asking him for; not protection, but a say in what the three of them were risking it all for.

He’d had to rely on his own skill and judgement for so long on the island, it was hard to know if he was capable of trusting someone else’s choices. Even if they were two of the people he trusted most. It went against every instinct he’d built up to survive.

This couldn’t be about merely survival anymore. He had to be better. Oliver just wasn’t sure he knew how to be anymore. Or how to show Laurel he was willing to try.

—-

Laurel sighed as Thea left CNRI for the day. Apparently Oliver had elected to text that he was waiting in the car outside rather than stop by. That probably had to do more with their talk this morning than anything.

Had she been too harsh? Sometimes she regretted the things she said to him the minute they flew out of her mouth, but she didn’t know how to stop herself. He made her crazy, always had.

And truthfully, sometimes he needed to hear the harsh words, if only to try and get through to him.

Oliver was not insane as so many claimed the Hood was. But he was reckless and stubborn, and he rarely thought through the impact his choices had on the people around him. She’d promised herself when he was found alive that she wouldn’t enable that sort of behavior anymore.

So where did that leave her?

She believed in the change he had been causing in the city, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be following his or anyone else’s orders. Maybe she just wasn’t meant to be on this team Oliver was building. It’s not as if he’d actually asked her. She’d pretty much forced his hand.

Her decision to back off was tested later that week when Cyrus Vanch was released from jail on a technicality. She had no real legal recourse to pursue a second arrest. This was just the sort of thing she would have been tempted to call the Hood in on only a week ago.

But for the moment, she was on her own. And with that thought in mind, it occurred to her she was hanging onto something of her father’s she no longer needed. In fact, maybe making him think she was totally out of this Hood business would be better for all of them.

Laurel caught him at his desk and set the vigilante phone down in front of him in lieu of a greeting.

He looked up. “What’s this?”

“That phone I, ah, borrowed,” she explained. “I thought I should probably let the SCPD have it back.”

He shrugged. “I told you we’re not using it.”

“Okay, well, neither am I. I have no intentions of calling the Hood ever again, so you can rest easy on that.” At any rate, she’d be calling Oliver’s phone directly in the future, so it was only a partial lie.

“Oh.”

Her lips quirked. “Don’t get too excited. And here I thought you’d be over the moon to hear I am not planning to call a lawless vigilante anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well,” her father said.

He was waffling. Laurel frowned.

“Why  _ aren’t  _ you happy? Why do you want me to hang onto this thing so bad?”

Her father blanched. “I don’t have a reason.”

“Oh, really?” She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him lie so badly. “Then why the disappointment when I’m trying to give it back to you?”

“That’s not — I’m not—”

“Quentin,” said Hilton at his own desk. They both turned to look at him. “Just tell her.”

Laurel whipped around to face her dad again.

He stopped and started more than once, but eventually said, “I told you to hang onto it because I was trying to catch him.”

“The Hood.”

“Yeah.”

Somehow that wasn’t surprising. But the question remained, “How?”

He struggled some more before picking up the phone and pointing at it. “Kelton, he gave me this thing to put in here that lets him hear what’s being said. So whenever you called him—”

“You’d be listening in.” An eerie sort of calm had settled over her, one that she knew wasn’t likely to last.

Her father seemed to know it, too, for he rushed to say, “Look, I knew you were gonna keep talking to him, so this way at least I could make sure you were safe.”

“By using me as bait?”

“No—”

“ _ Yes _ , unless tricking someone into setting up a sting operation suddenly doesn’t qualify!” She was aware most people in the bullpen had stopped talking, but couldn’t really find it in herself to care. “I can’t believe you!”

“Yeah? Well, look at it from my point of view! You’ve been mixed up in cases with the Bratva, the Triad, and then all this Hood stuff.”

“So you were just gonna take advantage of that.” It was so typical of him to try and put this all on her. Any shame he’d had in admitting what he’d done was totally forgotten. “Then sorry to disappoint you.”

She stormed out of the precinct and back to her car, driving a little faster than necessary back to her apartment. It was hard to know whether she was feeling more angry or hurt by her father’s actions, even if she couldn’t be surprised by them. She should have been suspicious the minute he let her keep the phone.

And the nerve of him to blame his own actions on her! Whether he’d done it because he was worried about her didn’t matter much when he’d betrayed her trust. More and more she was wishing he’d never seen that paper with the Bratva tattoo, even if it had led her to figuring out the truth about Oliver.

About the only positive thing she could think of was that she’d been lucky enough to discover Oliver’s secret before she’d called him on the Hood’s phone again. Just thinking about how much trouble she could have gotten him into unknowingly was enough to tie her stomach in knots. He wasn’t the only one who needed to be more careful, clearly.

If she didn’t hear back from him by tomorrow, she’d go to talk to him herself, Laurel decided once she was home. And hopefully more calmly than last time. She didn’t want to seem like a pushover, but she also knew now it was more important than ever that they were all on the same page if they weren’t going to be caught.

Laurel thought through how she wanted to go about making her case to Oliver as she reheated and picked at some leftovers from the night before. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to run it by Digg first.

There was a knock at the door. Then again.

Laurel sighed. Probably her father. She got up and undid the lock, only for a man she didn’t know to start pushing his way through. She threw her weight against it, but a second man shoved back as well and they were coming through. 

Laurel grabbed at the first man and spun around, throwing her back against the door to trap the second. She hit at her first attacker twice with her elbow, then whirled to push at the second and slammed the door on his leg. His cry of pain almost covered up the ding of the elevator.

She ran towards the back of her apartment, searching wildly for the first weapon she could find as she was chased. Her hands closed on the handle of an umbrella as hands landed on her back and shoulder, so she swung out with it. One of the men — she’d lost track of which was which — went down, and she ran under the outstretched arms of the other. Before he could turn back around, she’d hit him as well and then shoved him straight into the glass cabinet standing against the wall.

She turned to run before he’d even finished falling, but her path was blocked by Cyrus Vanch himself. “I love a girl who can take care of herself.”

Laurel barely had enough breath to demand, “What are you doing here?”

His smirk only grew. “I hear you know the Hood.”

Just as he held up what looked to be a taser, Oliver appeared like some kind of vision in her hallway, lunging forward to place Vanch in a chokehold and proving just how real he actually was. The taser fell from Vanch’s hands as he grappled with both hands to try and remove Oliver’s arm from around his neck. Laurel’s hands flew over her mouth as she watched his face redden and his eyes slowly fall closed. Oliver’s stone-faced expression barely changed as he lowered the man to the floor.

She darted forward a step, and Oliver looked up, seeming to take in her stricken expression. As much as she hated Vanch...

“He’s alright. Just asleep.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Footsteps announced John’s arrival, his gun out as he checked over the room. It had been them coming up in the elevator. Not Vanch. “Thank you.”

Oliver stepped over him and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I thought I had it covered, but I guess Vanch hung back.”

His gaze went over her head, and she could tell he was taking in the wreck she’d made of her front hall while knocking down the rest of her would-be captors.

“I think he got lucky, then.”

He pulled her into a hug for just a moment, and it wasn’t until then that Laurel realized she’d been shaking. She didn’t think it was from fear; her heart was still pounding, but she felt safe. The adrenaline just didn’t have anywhere to go.

Digg moved further into the room as well, his gun holstered, but one hand hovering over it. “911 says the neighbors already put in a call.”

“Good,” said Oliver. “Most of what happened we can tell them as is. We’ll tell the cops you took care of Vanch.”

Digg nodded. “Better that way.”

“Okay.” Now that her heart rate was slowing back down, it occurred to her to ask, “What were you two doing here? Not that I’m not grateful.”

Oliver sent a somewhat panicked look Diggle’s way, who simply indicated with a tilt of his head that that was up to him to answer.

“I was — we were coming to see you. To talk about the team. And about how we’re going to manage that from now on.” Oliver’s eyes were not quite on her face; he’d fixed his gaze somewhere to the left, and she suspected it was the only way he could say it.

She found her lips curving upwards despite herself. “Well, I think it’ll have to wait for one night.”

The sound of approaching sirens on the street below underscored that sentiment.

All three of them had to answer questions, and she spent the better part of an hour rebuffing her dad’s attempts to get her to spend the night at his place instead of cleaning up her own. She still wasn’t happy with him, especially since it seemed that she owed this particular attack to a mole Vanch had had within the police department who had overheard her argument with her father earlier that day.

But she felt better about everything with Oliver. Even if they hadn’t gotten to have the talk he and Digg had been coming to her place for, it at least showed he was listening, and that was usually half the battle with him. It made her all the more eager for the hours to go by faster the next day at work.

Eight rolled around, and Thea made a humming noise as she looked down at her phone. “Ollie says he sent one of the drivers for me. Apparently he’s busy.” She shrugged. “See ya, Laurel.”

“See you,” She replied, frowning as Thea disappeared from sight. If Oliver couldn’t make it, that had to mean something was up.

Laurel left the office shortly after and made her way immediately to the Verdant. To her surprise, Oliver was there and hadn’t suited up, but he and Digg were both talking quietly and with very serious expressions.

“Hey,” she said, and they both looked up. Laurel made her way down the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

The two of them exchanged a look, and Oliver turned towards her.

“There’s a lot that’s happened. A lot that’s changed. An employee at the company, Felicity, she gave me a second copy of this.” He took something out of his pocket and laid it on the nearest table.

It was the book Digg had shown her the other night.

“Did it have all the same names?”

Oliver nodded. “Apparently Walter found it in my mother’s things and was having Felicity examine it before he disappeared. When I asked my mom about it, she claimed it was my father’s and that it would be dangerous to look into, and she burned that copy.”

“And that isn’t everything,” Diggle added. “I shadowed Mrs. Queen off and on the last few days to see what I could find out. She took a meeting with a man. Couldn’t make out his voice distinctly, but they talked about something called the Undertaking.”

“Do we know what that is?”

Both men shook their heads.

“There’s more,” said Digg, but he didn’t look like he wanted to continue. “They were talking about the  _ Queen’s Gambit _ . And from what they said, Laurel...it doesn’t sound like it was really the storm that sunk it.”

She looked from him to Oliver’s somber expression. The words didn’t seem to want to register. But when they did, it felt as though she’d just heard the news of the shipwreck all over again, only worse.

_ Sabotage _ .

“Laurel?” Oliver asked, his voice gentle. “Are you okay?”

It took her a minute to look up and meet his gaze. Her eyes felt heavy with tears that had already been spent.

“For years after the _Gambit_ went down, I was researching boating accidents. Storms. Anything that might explain what had happened out there. I didn’t want to believe it was an accident. And now you’re telling me I was right.” She had her arms folded over her chest, but it felt more like an attempt to wrap herself up in some kind of safety than anything else. “Your mother knew this whole time?”

“We don’t know for how long,” Oliver said. She could see the pain from that revelation still swimming in his eyes. “But I think my father did. That’s why he gave me his copy of the list.”

She frowned to herself. That list, it all seemed to keep coming back to it. Someone had killed her sister because she had happened to be on a boat with a man who owned a copy, and now Walter had vanished for having possessed one himself a short while.

But copies. There was something there...

“Mr. Queen didn’t write it?”

“No,” Oliver admitted. “The copycat archer that took those hostages at Christmas, he said he worked for the man who did.”

“The man that had the  _ Gambit _ wrecked. The man who killed my sister.”

“Laurel, if you need some time to process this,” Oliver began.

“No, I’ll be okay. I’ve had five years to process, and he’s had five years of getting away with it.” Her fists clenched at her sides, and she only barely kept her tone even as she asked, “What do we know about him?”

“Most of what we know about him comes from the Dark Archer,” said Digg. “This guy is rich enough and connected enough to have an assassin on hand whenever he needs it. They don’t like what Oliver’s been doing with the list, and they know he has a copy of it.”

If the Dark Archer’s boss and whoever Mrs. Queen had been talking to were connected, then she supposed it wouldn’t have been a hard leap of logic to make that the list was what the Hood was working off of. But then what was the list for in the first place if not for what Mr. Queen had asked of Oliver? Something didn’t quite ring true, like a sour note in an otherwise perfect melody.

“He started killing people you’d already gotten to to get your attention,” she said to Oliver.

He nodded. “I thought I was being framed, but then he put himself on TV. Think he was hoping to just get rid of me then.”

None of them chose to mention how close the other archer had come to that goal.

“Not all the victims were people you went after, though, right? I thought I remembered the news saying something about that.” She'd been following that particular angle closely back then, hopeful that there had to be some other explanation than what the police had been trying to pass off as true at the time.

Oliver frowned, clearly thinking back. “Yeah, Doug Miller. But he was on the list. I would’ve gotten to him eventually. He worked for my parents’ company.”

“What else do we know about him?”

“Mostly that he’s dead,” Digg remarked.

Laurel gave him a look. “Yes, but what does that tell us about the Dark Archer?”

Oliver was still frowning. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t have a reason to kill someone you hadn’t targeted yet. It would’ve showed his hand that he knew about the list.”

“He told me he knew about it anyway.”

“But that was later,” Laurel reminded him. The pieces were coming together in her mind, like she had some invisible board on which to pin her thoughts like at CNRI. “Killing one random guy you hadn’t gone after yet makes no sense – unless he had a specific reason.”

“What are you getting at, Laurel?”

“I think you’ve been looking at this list all wrong, Oliver. It’s not just a list of names of people who’ve hurt the city.” She tapped the book with two fingers. “It’s an extortion ring.”

Oliver and Diggle both stared at her.

“If your father knew this list was of all the people who had done wrong to the city, then he or someone had to have the proof. And instead of turning that proof over to the cops, they made this list. So what were they doing with that list?”

“Blackmailing them. Miller knew he was on it,” Diggle realized.

“Exactly,” said Laurel. “And the Dark Archer must have had reason to think he wasn’t going to keep quiet about it anymore. There’s a leak at Queen Consolidated.”

“Or was,” said Oliver, expression grim. “Walter.”

“Walter got hold of your mother’s copy of the list,” Digg said. “Maybe he tried to ask Miller about it. Miller sounds the alarm to the guy who made the list. Guy who made the list has Miller killed by the Dark Archer, and Walter…”

Walter. There wasn’t much hope something similar hadn’t happened to him. But there had to be some reason he’d be taken instead of left behind with a few arrows in his chest. Something whoever was running this whole thing needed him for.

She flipped the book open and tapped the inside cover. “Your mother’s copy was completely identical?” Laurel received two nods. “Then this symbol means something to somebody. If we can figure out what, we might have a better idea of who’s doing this. Who your father got mixed up with before it killed him. And to stop it before it happens to Mr. Steele.”

“So how do we wanna do this, Oliver?” Digg asked. “You could have a talk with your mother.”

Oliver frowned, and Laurel knew this had to be the part that was bothering him the most. How could Mrs. Queen be involved with the man who killed her husband? Then again, her husband had seemingly been just as involved.

“If I talk to her, it’s as her son, Diggle. I am not visiting my mother as the Hood.”

“What if that doesn’t work? You’ve tried it once already.”

“Then maybe we try a different tack before Mrs. Queen again,” Laurel said, taking a step forward to try and diffuse the visible tension growing between the two men. “The Hood showing up to ask the exact same questions right after Oliver might look suspicious.”

Oliver was looking rather pleased at her suggestion, but Diggle frowned. “Whatever this Undertaking is, I don’t think we can afford to wait to find out more, Laurel.”

“So we follow a different lead.” She lifted up their new copy of the list. “We have a whole book full.”

The other two exchanged a look. Slowly, Digg nodded, and a smirk formed on Oliver’s face.

“We find another leak.”

—-

Tommy was reaching his wit’s end. Twice in barely a week Laurel had been in some kind of danger. And this was the second break-in to her apartment in less than a year. What was happening to this city?

More specifically, what was happening with Laurel? She was mixed up in something, and Tommy felt he was honor-bound to find out, since she’d made such a big deal about the importance of their friendship those few months ago.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Laurel. It was that he absolutely trusted her to get herself in a whole heap of trouble. She was flirting with danger every time she got involved with that Hood alone.

She’d been acting so odd lately. And she hadn’t seemed happy at all. Usually stressed. To be fair, Laurel hadn’t been all that happy for the last five years, but this felt different. And Tommy was paying more attention now.

So he got on the phone to the person he felt could most reliably inform him.

“Hello?”

“Joanna, hi. It’s Tommy.”

“Oh, hey Tommy.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Okay, considering,” she said, and he could practically hear her shrug on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry for what you and your mom are going through. I know how hard that is.”

“Mm-hm. But I don’t think that’s why you’re talking to me.”

“Admittedly, you’d be right. Listen, I wanted to ask you something. It’s about Laurel.”

“No, I don’t know if she and Oliver are actually dating,” Joanna said.

Tommy grimaced. “Yeah, not about that. I meant more if you knew whether she was getting involved in something dangerous.”

“If this is about a case, Tommy, I couldn’t tell you anything even if I knew. Client’s right to privacy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right, right, but what about non-cases? Anything there?”

“Not really sure what you mean. And even if I did, why would I tell?”

“Joanna, come on, give me something. I’m worried about her.”

“Well,” she began slowly. “There was something she was looking into that didn’t involve any current client.”

“Okay, good, what was it?”

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it. It was about Oliver.”

“Oliver?” What could Laurel have possibly been looking into concerning Oliver of all people that had pinged Joanna’s radar?

“Yeah, she was on the phone with some people. I don’t really remember specifically what she was asking about. But I remember she wrote the word Triad down in her notes. It was right around that time they almost got into that gang war with the Bertinellis, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember.” And Laurel had been quite interested in the Bertinellis at that time, too, if only because Oliver had seemingly been interested. What was going on there?

“That’s all you know?” He checked.

“Yeah. Look, I don’t know why you’re so interested all of a sudden, but Laurel has a habit of biting off more than she can chew. It hasn’t gotten her yet.”

“Yeah. Yet being the key word. Thanks Joanna.” He hung up shortly after and thought through his options.

He could confront Laurel with the little he knew and get stonewalled. He could ask Oliver about it and get who knew what kind of response; Tommy hardly knew how his oldest friend would react to one thing or another anymore. Or he could try a totally different approach.

That afternoon, Tommy found himself willingly going down to the SCPD’s precinct for perhaps the first time in his life. Lucky for him, he caught Detective Lance at his desk.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a minute, would you, Detective?”

Laurel’s father glanced up and scoffed. “For you? Forget it.”

“What about for Laurel? I need to talk to you about something.”

The man paused, then pushed back from his desk and stood. “Alright, in here.”

Tommy was shown into a vacant interrogation room, which was not at all threatening, and he chose to perch on the corner of the table rather than sit across from the older man.

“What’s this about, Merlyn?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Laurel’s been acting weird lately. Last week, she called me out of the blue and asked me to send the cavalry after her if I didn’t hear back from her in two hours. Told me she was on her way to see a client in a bad neighborhood but that I wasn’t supposed to worry about it. Kind of contradictory message, don’t you think?”

Lance frowned. “Sounds just like her. What’s your point?”

Tommy could tell he was rapidly losing the man’s interest. “The point is that she called at all. So I called Joanna up and asked her if she knew of any clients Laurel had in a really bad neighborhood.” He got a nod for that, which seemed to indicate Lance appreciated his amateur police work to some extent. “ _ Then _ when I asked her if she’d been doing anything off the books, Joanna said she had seemed interested in the Triad.”

Lance cursed. “Triad. Bratva. I knew it. I knew she hadn’t dropped it.”

Tommy blinked. “What do you mean, Bratva?”

“One of her clients got mixed up with them. Maybe it’s the same one. Joanna tell you who all this Triad stuff was about?”

“Uh, no,” said Tommy. “Client confidentiality, apparently.”

Lance nodded with a grumble. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find out.” He stood and reached out to clap Tommy on the shoulder. “Thanks for the tip, Merlyn. Maybe you aren’t so bad.”

Tommy managed a tight smile, which dropped almost immediately after Lance left the interrogation room. Then he turned and left the station altogether.

He didn’t know why he’d lied. Maybe because he knew how quickly Lance tended to fly off the handle about Oliver. After all, it’d be crazy to think he was somehow at the center of all this, right?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, longish chapter that's hopefully a bit on the lighter-hearted side. Next chapters are gonna have some pretty serious developments, but I won't give away what those are. Thanks once again for all your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and such, it means a lot. Enjoy!

John drove them back to the Verdant early the next day at Oliver’s request. He’d asked Laurel to meet them there, too, and they spotted her getting out of her car just as John pulled into the lot.

“So, what’s going on? Why the early meetup?”

John looked to Oliver since he hadn’t shared yet.

“There’s a couple things we need to go over before I head out tonight,” Oliver answered. They went down to the base and gathered by the tables.

“So, first thing?” John asked.

“Couldn’t sleep last night. I was thinking about the list and what we think it’s for now.” Oliver took the book out and set it on the table. “And I realized — what if it also works in reverse?”

John exchanged a look with Laurel, and she appeared just as clueless.

“What do you mean, man?”

“My parents both knew about it, and whoever wrote the list has to be powerful. Powerful enough to bully others and hire killers to get his way. They’re from the same mould as the people who are on the list, but they’re not named in it.”

“Because they wouldn’t be extorting themselves,” Laurel said.

“Right, but that omission speaks louder than if they _had_ included themselves. It narrows down who might be at the top of this group.”

John thought he might be catching on. “The movers and shakers in the city who aren’t on the list could still know of it. Or wrote it.”

Oliver nodded. “I looked up the richest people in Starling from five years previous to see who was missing. Made a list of my own.” He set down a piece of paper next to the list. “I didn’t include women who made the cut since the Dark Archer said his boss was a man, and my mother’s meeting was with a man as well. There’s gonna be some on there who probably are innocent, but it gives us a better idea of who we’re looking for.”

Laurel took it first and looked it over, then passed it to John. He scanned up and down, noting some of the less likely — Malcolm Merlyn was getting named to some humanitarian thing later this month, he’d seen on the news — but the man who ordered the Dark Archer around seemed far less shadowy now. They had options.

Oliver took the list back. “I’m most interested in talking to him—” he tapped the name at the top. “Frank Chen. He was close with my father, and the _Gambit_ was supposed to stop in China where he does business now. But he’s been there for the last two years,” he admitted.

John frowned. Not easy to access, then.

“This is still really good, Oliver,” Laurel said.

“I hope so. I just wish my father had told me who I was dealing with himself. More about the Undertaking.” He frowned. “I didn’t really know what this mission was about before I started it.”

“That wasn’t your fault. And look where you are now. We just need to find a way to talk to Chen or the right person who will give us the answers we’re still looking for,” Laurel said.

He nodded, seeming glad to hear that encouragement. John did have to marvel at all Oliver had managed to accomplish with the little he’d been given to go off of. Anyone else probably would have given up, but Oliver seemed just as determined now as when he’d thought his mission was simply to punish the people on the list.

“So what’s the second thing you wanted to take care of?” He asked.

“Little bit of training, for Laurel’s benefit.”

“Me?” Laurel looked just as surprised as John felt, which seemed to give Oliver some amusement.

“Yeah. I know you have some reservations about me being out there, but you haven’t really gotten to see what I do for the most part. So this is a demonstration.” Oliver gestured to John. “Digg’s the best, and he won’t be holding back.”

“Yeah, well I like not getting my ass kicked,” John pointed out. He went and changed into clothes suitable for a spar and met Oliver back out on the mats. His friend tossed him a stick and they took up stances. Laurel stood against one of the tables with her arms folded, watching as they moved towards each other and clashed.

Their sparring matches were usually pretty intense — there wouldn’t be much point to Oliver training to fight worse than he needed to survive out there — though John could immediately tell there was something different about this one. He didn’t think it was solely the additional audience member; rather, the other man had something to prove right now.

Oliver was really in the zone. It was everything he could do to just keep blocking the man’s attacks, and he was barely getting any of his own in.

The rap of the sticks hitting each other was loud along with the blood that pounded in his ears, and he almost didn’t hear the slide of another stick coming off the rack. In a millisecond, Oliver changed course, whirling around and knocking the stick out of Laurel’s loose grip where she stood on the edge of the mat. His stick was already raising for a second swing.

John lunged forward and caught his arm on the upstroke. His friend jerked to a halt while Laurel staggered backward with a startled cry.

Oliver was frozen for a moment, and his face seemed to cycle through a series of emotions before finally settling on anger. “Laurel, what the _hell_ were you thinking?”

“I- I just thought, you don’t usually fight one person at a time. I was going to ask — I wasn’t just gonna—”

“You always want to announce yourself before approaching a fight, even a spar,” John explained in more measured tones. “Surprises lead to accidents.”

Oliver’s gaze followed his to where Laurel was clutching her one wrist. She let it go instantly, guilt in her expression.

“It just stings a little,” she insisted. “It’s not broken or anything.” She teetered on the balls of her feet like she wanted to go to him but wasn’t sure how it would be received.

“I could have hurt you. Seriously hurt you,” Oliver said, his shoulders hunched.

“I know. I should have realized, after Iron Heights,” Laurel replied, her eyes on her shoes. She looked back up as Oliver turned away. “This was my fault, Oliver. I knew what you’ve been through — at least a little — and I didn’t think about what that might mean for you when you’re fighting. Even a friend.”

Oliver breathed in once and then looked back at her. “I need you to be safe. If you’re gonna be down here, I need you to be safe about things.”

Laurel nodded. “Okay.”

John let his own breath out. “So, you still heading out tonight?”

“Yeah.” Oliver left them both to change into the Hood suit, and he didn’t stick around long after he’d gotten ready. It was obvious he was still upset, even if he was trying to keep a lid on things.

“Give him some time,” John advised after a few minutes of silence. “Punching a few people will probably do him good.”

“I wish we could do more for him.” She looked away from the door Oliver had left through. “He’s not crazy, but you don’t have to be to see someone, or to get some other means of help.”

“Well, he couldn’t talk to a specialist without them finding out about all this,” he replied. “And Oliver’s not the kind of guy to get himself help in the first place.”

Laurel grimaced, which seemed to indicate she was well aware of that.

John went about putting the sticks back on the rack, then got himself some water and a towel to wipe at the sweat that hadn’t already started to dry, keeping watch on Laurel out of the corner of his eye. It was pretty obvious she had something else on her mind, but he was willing to wait for her to come around to it.

“John, could I ask you a favor?” She finally began.

“You can ask,” he answered. “What’s the favor?”

“It’s about, well, training. I know I messed up tonight, but I want to try again.”

“Training,” he repeated, just to be sure.

She nodded. “It’s easy enough for me to be safe down in the base with you guys, but let’s face it. I’ve had people come attack me in my apartment twice now. I just keep thinking if you and Oliver hadn’t been there…”

“I know,” he said. “But we were. And you almost had it on your own that last time.”

“That’s the thing.” She took a step closer. “I wasn’t enough. And I need to be.”

John frowned and left the mat entirely. “Laurel, no one is blaming you for those attacks or that you’ve needed our help.”

“No, but I am,” she argued. “A team is only as strong as their weakest link. I can’t be holding the two of you back because I might be in trouble. And I don’t want Oliver wasting time worrying about me.”

“Well, we can go over some defense maneuvers,” he offered, but Laurel was already shaking her head.

“I’ve taken self defense classes. I’m asking you to teach me to fight like the people who have come to attack me in my own home, John. I know you can, and I know you would.”

Unspoken was what they both knew; Oliver would not be willing to try and fight Laurel after what had just happened on the mats. He didn’t trust himself enough for that, not when he still let his mind take him to life or death in a fight.

John thought it over. “I can show you some basics. But between my day job and helping Oliver out here, I don’t know that I can give you the kind of training you’re asking for.”

“So I should find someone who can.”

“If you’re serious about this, then yes.”

“Okay.” She walked back over to the mats. “So those basics.”

John couldn’t hold in a snort.

Laurel turned back around. “What?”

“I’m not sure work slacks and a sweater are gonna be the best attire for this.”

She looked down at her outfit. “Right. I could run home for a change of clothes.”

“Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow?” He suggested instead. “Promise.”

Laurel nodded, though as she marched back over to one of the chairs, he could tell she was a little disappointed to be putting things off. She was not one easily deterred, that was for certain.

He took his own seat with a shake of the head and a hidden smile. There was always something happening on this team.

—-

Laurel was starting to wonder if she needed to start taking public transit.

Every time she came over to the Verdant, she had to come through the front because she drove there and Tommy would recognize her car. Not that it was any less suspicious that she did come through the front.

“Back again?” Was all he said the fifth late afternoon in a row.

“Yep.” Laurel tightened her grip on the bag she’d brought to hold her training clothes and couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she skirted around him to get to the basement door.

“You know, I think you and Mr. Diggle are the only people Ollie lets in his office,” Tommy remarked, and Laurel looked back over her shoulder at him. He wasn’t frowning, but there was little that was friendly in his expression either. “Must be a fun club.”

“Tommy,” she began, but he’d already turned away and was walking to the other end of the bar and out of sight. Laurel had a feeling he’d still heard her, though.

She had to use his absence to enter the code and slip inside, however, so Laurel let him go as she continued on her way.

It wasn’t that she thought Oliver was wrong not to tell Tommy. Nothing that their friend had said about the Hood suggested he would want to be part of this, much less want to keep the secret. But it was making it harder to be around him, and that did make her feel guilty. If there was just one thing they could safely let him know that would make it seem less like they were shutting him out...

“Something wrong?” John’s voice called as she descended the stairs, and Laurel looked up. Both he and Oliver had stopped whatever they were doing to face her.

“Tommy’s getting suspicious about me coming down here all the time.”

“He’s probably _been_ suspicious, just finally decided to ask you about it,” Digg pointed out, and she winced.

“Okay, well, I’ll tell him you’re just looking over some more papers for the club,” Oliver decided.

“Then he’ll want to see those papers, Ollie. He’s your manager.”

Oliver frowned, though he didn’t dispute it. She was glad he seemed to have mostly left her screw-up the previous night behind, even if he hadn’t had any luck yet interrogating anyone on the list. That combined with the Tommy problem were enough on their own to put him in a mood.

John took a step forward. “We could just go with the excuse he’ll already believe.”

“Which is?” Laurel asked. If he had one, she’d love to hear it.

Digg didn’t say anything at first, just exchanged a look with Oliver, who crossed his arms.

“No.”

“No to what?”

“Tommy’s been asking if you two are dating,” Diggle finally revealed. “So why not just tell him you are?”

Laurel was speechless, though Oliver wasn’t.

“Absolutely not.”

“You were fine pretending in front of the Bratva.”

“That was different,” Oliver maintained, and Laurel had to agree. “This would be our friends and family.”

Though now that she was thinking about their acting in front of the Bratva, it was hard not to remember the hitch in her breath when Oliver had called her honey, or the feeling while she’d been in his arms that she had nothing to fear, even if she didn’t understand half of what had been said around her.

Which caused another thought to come to her.

“Actually, since we’re talking about this, what did you call me?”

Oliver blinked and glanced her way. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Not now. At the warehouse, in Russian,” she clarified. “You said I was something.”

There was a moment where he was still clearly confused, and then all at once his eyes went wide. His face reddened. “It was nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure you said it again when you were high on Vertigo.”

“You did,” Diggle confirmed. “Sounded like moy-something.”

“ _Moya_ ,” Oliver corrected with his eyes on his shoes. “ _Moya krasivaya ptitsa._ ”

“Which means?” She pressed.

He took his time looking all around the room before even reaching her general direction. “It means bird. My...pretty bird.”

Laurel felt her mouth drop open.

“Look, it was — He said something about- about you singing, and I had to reply,” he immediately began to excuse. “I wasn’t calling you a bird, or pretty — not that you’re — you know what I mean.”

“And when you said it again here in the base?”

Oliver’s mouth opened and shut a couple times. “Well...I was high.”

John said nothing, just watched the two of them with his arms crossed. Whether he was letting them make up their own minds or simply enjoying the free entertainment was anyone’s guess.

Laurel didn’t know what to do. Oliver seemed dead set against it. Why was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer.

But it was the simplest solution. Let Tommy believe what he was already convinced was going on, instead of trying to come up with an entirely different excuse. It wasn’t like they had to put in that much extra work if he already thought they were dating.

But could she just pretend? What would Joanna or her father say about her seemingly taking Oliver back? It wasn’t as if they knew just how much he’d grown and changed. They’d think she was crazy.

But maybe that was one of the sacrifices she had to make to be part of this. Hadn’t Oliver smeared his own reputation shortly after he’d returned to avoid being tied up in a position at the company? She hadn’t understood that at the time, but now she knew. There were things bigger than them going on in this city.

“I’ll do it.”

Oliver stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe the words that had come from her mouth.

“I mean, it’s just getting a coffee or two and saying yes if he asks if we’re together,” she added. “That’s not hard.”

They’d been going out like that a lot, those last couple of weeks before she’d discovered the truth. Oliver had never explained any of that, either.

“It’d give you another excuse to get away from the manor,” Digg said to him, probably in an effort to sweeten the deal. Because Oliver still hadn’t agreed.

She felt...hurt was probably too strong a word. After all, she’d told him herself that nothing could happen between them all those months ago when they’d kissed. But they had kissed. Maybe he’d decided since then that had been a mistake. She was having trouble remembering why that was the case recently, and pretending to date was not going to help any.

“Okay,” Oliver said before she could take back her agreement. “We’ll try it and see if it gets Tommy to leave Laurel alone about coming here.”

“Right,” she said.

“I’d test it out on somebody before Tommy,” John advised. “He’s gonna think it’s a little weird if he’s the only one you two are acting like that for.”

“Okay, so we pick a guinea pig,” Oliver agreed. “Joanna’s still off work, right?”

Laurel nodded. “And we are definitely not using my father.”

The other two nodded before she’d even finished the sentence.

“Well, that really only leaves one option,” Oliver eventually decided. “I guess I’ll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.”

Well, this was definitely going to be more than a casual thing.

—-

Another day, another long shift at CNRI. Thea shut off her alarm and actually managed to roll out of bed instead of falling back asleep until Ollie came to wake her up. Maybe she was starting to get used to this.

She went through her morning routine, eating breakfast with her mother and Oliver before getting driven over to CNRI by Mr. Diggle. Oliver followed her up into the office, which only happened sometimes.

Laurel had already buried her nose into a file by the time they got there, but she looked up and smiled at their approach.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Thea greeted back.

Oliver didn’t say a greeting. He just leaned down and kissed the cheek Laurel offered him. He placed his hand on her arm as he did so, and _lingered._

“Woah, woah, _woah_ ,” Thea said, and they both looked her way. She gestured between them. “Since when was this a thing?”

“Uh, recently?” Oliver glanced to Laurel to as if to confirm, though just before he did Laurel dragged some kind of bag with her foot further under her desk than it had been sitting.

“Pretty recent. We’re not making a big deal out of it or anything,” Laurel said.

“Right,” Oliver agreed. “So I will let you ladies get to work.”

“Well, let me walk you out first.”

“You can’t escape me for eight hours,” Thea reminded her.

“No, but I can for a few minutes,” Laurel replied as she stood and followed Oliver out to the stairwell. She wondered if adults still made out there the way kids did at school.

Alone for the moment, Thea found herself curious as to what Laurel had stashed under her desk. She crouched down and pulled out a small backpack. Glancing around to check that no one was watching, Thea unzipped the bag and looked inside.

Gym clothes. When did Laurel start going to a gym? And why had she kicked them out of Oliver’s sight line?

She heard someone heading over, so Thea quickly zipped the backpack back up and dove into a chair. Her instincts were good, because it had been Laurel coming back. She didn’t look to have noticed her spying, though.

“Ready to get to work?” Her friend asked her.

“Yeah. Oh, and, uh, we should totally get something out later for lunch. I wanna hear all the details, and there’s no way Oliver’s telling them.” Her brother had tighter lips than anyone these days.

“We’ll see,” Laurel replied, looking at least somewhat amused.

Of course, Thea didn’t end up getting those juicy details since some _asshole_ had to run off with her purse. That was really just her luck.

—-

Oliver was a little on edge. His latest attempt to question a person on the list had been thwarted again last night, this time by the early arrival of Detectives Lance and Hall. With McKenna contributing off and on to the task force, Lance seemed to be batting better than his average. Oliver had barely cornered the billionaire he was after when the sirens had sounded, forcing him to take off with only a single threat to the man.

Laurel and John had both recommended a night off, in hopes of throwing off both the cops and the elites from any sort of pattern to his activities as the Hood. Which left him with nothing to do.

He couldn’t remain at home, not while he still didn’t know what to make of his mother and her secret dealings. And it was becoming obvious with each passing minute that he was more in the way of things at the club than helping.

“You get bored of looking over papers?” Tommy asked.

“Thought I should see how things are looking up here,” he lied. “You really keep a tight ship.”

“I try my best. We’re still looking to hire a couple people. Bussers and the like, you know. You sure you’re alright with me running the interviews solo?”

Oliver shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who’s going to be managing them. I trust you.”

Tommy smiled briefly, a bit tight. “Thanks. I have to wonder what you do with all the free time I provide you.”

Okay, Laurel had definitely been right about Tommy getting suspicious. And as Oliver exchanged a glance with John, who was hanging back near the wall, he realized what he was meant to say now.

“Um, yeah. Well, I’m actually gonna head out in a minute. I was, uh, going to Laurel’s.”

“Yeah? Listen, Ollie, can you just tell me — you and Laurel.” His friend tilted his head and made a vague gesture.

Oliver managed a short laugh. “Uh, yeah. We’re- we’re giving things another shot.”

“Okay. Great.”

Oliver frowned. “Is it?”

Tommy looked away, chagrin taking over his features. “Well, it’s an answer, I guess.”

“Look, Tommy, I know you and Laurel…” Oliver really had no way forward with that sentence, so he lamely let it dangle. “I don’t want things to be weird for all of us.”

“It’s a little late for that, Ollie. But it’s fine. I mean I knew when Laurel turned me down last year, it was for you.”

“It was?” He hadn’t meant to say that. It had just burst from him before he could help himself.

Tommy sighed. “She _said_ it was because she didn’t know what her feelings were or if she felt she could be in a relationship, and she claimed that she wanted to be there for you as a friend.” He glanced at Oliver. “But c’mon, right?”

“Right. Well, um, if this is a problem, I don’t want—”

Tommy waved a hand in the air to cut him off. “Look, you won fair and square, Ollie. Can’t begrudge you that. So go and have a good time, alright?”

At another time, he might have said something about Laurel not being some game or prize either of them could simply win, but he was still reeling a little from what Tommy had just revealed about her reasons for turning down a relationship with him. Had she really done it because of feelings she held for Oliver?

“Alright. Then I’ll- I’ll see you.” He turned and left the club with Digg close on his heels.

“You’re actually gonna head over, right?”

Oliver looked at him.

John shook his head. “Part of having a cover is maintaining it, man.”

His bodyguard left him in the parking lot with only his bike to use as transport. Did he seriously expect him to be fine going over there after what he’d just heard? He should have never agreed to this idea.

Why had Diggle done this to him? Was it some sort of joke at his expense? He _knew_ how Oliver felt and had suggested this scheme anyway.

But Oliver had agreed. He wasn’t sure what was worse; not being with Laurel, or everyone else believing he was.

He got on his bike and drove over, knowing that he couldn’t just stand in the parking lot all night. Oliver rode up in the elevator and had made it halfway down the hall when he realized he’d forgotten to call. Too late now.

He knocked and waited a few minutes. Laurel’s footsteps padded to the door, and there was a pause as she probably checked the peephole. Then he heard the deadbolt slide and the lock being undone before he was face to face with her.

“Hey. Is something happening?”

“No. Uh, I just tried out the cover on Tommy, and John thought I should follow-through by spending some time over here. If that’s okay. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“No, you’re fine.” She stood back and let him through. The glass cabinet against her one wall was still missing its panes, the only evidence of the attempted kidnapping last week.

Laurel had continued on back to her desk where her laptop was open. “I was gonna order some takeout. You want anything?”

“Sure.” He walked further into the sitting room. “I can get it.”

“Next time,” she said. Oliver tried not to think about this becoming a routine.

He licked his lips and cast about for something to say. “What were you up to tonight?”

“Catching up on work,” Laurel said with a wry smirk. “I haven’t quite figured out a schedule to keep up with it now that I’m helping you and Digg down in the base.”

“Well, part of that schedule could be you doing work at work and not taking it home with you,” he recommended. Laurel shook her head, though she was smiling. “How much can there be? Thea’s pulling her weight, isn’t she?”

“She is, but there are a lot of people in this city who need help. We can’t even get to them all, truth be told.” Laurel looked back up to him. “That’s why we need you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that kind of blatant praise. Oliver glanced down, but his lips were curved in a smile.

“Okay, I’m gonna call. Chinese sound good?”

“Yeah.”

Laurel stepped into the kitchen with her phone, and Oliver settled on the couch to wait as she placed the order. He felt himself relaxing as he usually did in Laurel’s apartment. There was something about the warm, red tones or the glow of the candles that had always put him at ease.

“How did Tommy take it?”

He looked up at her leaning in the kitchen archway. “Oh, alright I guess.”

Laurel frowned. “He was jealous.”

“A little, yeah.” He couldn’t lie about that. Not when Tommy was being so obvious about it, anyway. “I was hoping he would feel better if we confirmed what he was thinking, but—”

“Now he just has a more concrete reason to be upset?” She guessed. “This is all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. If you didn’t want to date him, you didn’t have to. I’m sure he knows that, even if he’s a little hurt.” Oliver paused for a moment, then before he could think better of it, asked, “You didn’t want to, right?”

“I thought we already went over this,” Laurel said.

“Not really. You told me you felt you weren’t meant to be in a relationship,” Oliver reminded her. “But if you felt you could, and if you felt you wanted that with Tommy—”

“But I don’t. I mean, I care about him. I’ve known him most of my life. And I guess, in some sort of way, I love him.” She pushed off the wall and walked over to a chair, which she dropped into. “I just can’t see myself...when I’m in a relationship — a real one, anyway — that’s it, you know? That’s it for me. And I don’t know if Tommy works that way, even if he says he wants to try.”

“I don’t think he’d say that if he wasn’t actually committed.” Oliver wasn’t sure what he was saying, come to think of it. Arguing this point went directly against making things easier for the mission, not to mention his own self-interest. Just another form of trying to push people away, he supposed.

“Maybe not. But that’s not the only thing. I mean, whether he’s hurt or not, I’m not exactly thrilled with this whole jealousy thing.”

Oliver thought back to his friend’s remark about how he had won Laurel, and couldn’t help frowning as well.

“Well, as long as you’re not with him for your own reasons, I’ll say no more about it.”

“Thank you.”

There was a knock at the door, and Laurel went to get their food after checking and undoing both locks again. He was glad to see she was being careful about possible intruders in the wake of the incident with Vanch; it put some of his worries to rest.

Laurel set out their food on the coffee table, clearly meant to be a sort of buffet style. He grabbed a plastic fork and a carton at random and watched her do the same. It felt like any old night back when they were kids, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a box of pizza and a movie playing in the background. He’d pushed those memories down so far the last five years that he was shocked he could recall them so regularly.

Oliver swallowed down a mouthful and asked, “So how long until I have to watch my back for a taser?”

Laurel coughed and set her carton in her lap. “Hopefully a long while. I am not exactly on speaking terms with my father at the moment.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Um, the vigilante phone. He bugged it after I used it to call you about Joanna’s brother and the firefighters. I guess he was planning to have me lure you into a trap unawares, but I found out and was more than a little angry with him.” She started picking at her food again, more for something to do, he suspected.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not something you have to apologize for.”

“If it weren’t for me, your father wouldn’t have done that to you,” he pointed out. “You wouldn’t be having that problem.”

“Trust me, my father and I have enough of our own problems already. One more doesn’t hurt.”

He was pretty sure he was still at the root of a majority of those problems as well, whether indirectly or not, but Laurel looked up and caught his expression.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything, Oliver.”

“I’m not blaming myself for everything. Just the things that are my fault.”

“Which you think is everything,” she replied. “Part of my father’s problem is that he can never let anything go, and it is at least half the reason why he is almost permanently unhappy. Please don’t be the same way.”

“There wasn’t much reason to be happy the last five years,” he said.

Laurel stared at him for a moment, then put her food back on the table and walked over to the couch. She sat beside him.

“You know, I thought so, too, most of the time. But then, you came back, alive. And you were different, sometimes in really frustrating ways, but I can understand those a little better now. Thea’s quit using, there are people in this city who have gotten help who would have normally been forced to suffer on their own...not everything is bad. And a lot of that is because of you.”

He placed his own food down and looked at her. “I don’t know how you can still believe in me.”

“Because you’re my friend. Before anything else, you’re that,” she told him. “And I’m gonna be there for you. If you need help figuring out this Undertaking, if you don’t know what to do about Tommy, if you just need to talk about anything. The island, your father’s mission, whatever it is, Ollie. You’re not alone anymore.”

There was so much he wanted to say but couldn’t. How he’d longed to hear those words from her — even imagined her, at times, standing there and telling him so, just to hold on a little bit longer; that her picture was still tucked securely into his wallet, and that he could describe it in perfect detail with his eyes closed; that he loved her, and always had, and always would despite the selfish mistakes he’d made—

Laurel leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek brushing his as she embraced him. Oliver held still for a single breath, then encircled her with his own arms, one pulling her closer while the other slid up to cup the back of her head, fingers in her soft hair.

His worries felt small now. He was at peace for just this moment. Nothing could touch him when he was home.

Whatever anyone else thought of them, they would always have this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, two updates in one month! I'll admit I only have a small portion of the next chapter started on, so I'm not sure when that will be out. But the s1 plot is really starting to move along now, and I'll be interested to see what everyone thinks. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I messed up on a couple first names in this chapter, which I honestly don't know how/why happened. Many thanks to LycoX for correcting me!

As was their habit now, Laurel entered the car after Thea, sharing a quick smile with Oliver as John pulled away from CNRI.

“Hey, can I come over to the club with you guys?” Thea asked. “I wanted to talk to Tommy about something.”

“Alright,” Oliver agreed. “Anything in particular?”

“I was wondering how the hiring process was going. There’s a couple people I know who could use the money.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Thea,” Laurel remarked.

“I thought so,” she said with a satisfied smile. Laurel shook her head as she took out her phone to check for messages. A quick scroll through her news app had her raising her eyebrows.

She passed it over to Oliver. “Have you been following this?”

He skimmed the headline she’d left up. “Well, it’s a good thing we don’t have many investments in antiques.”

Thea looked between them. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Just a story about a jewel thief. They’re saying he uses bombs to coerce people into helping him, and he might be hitting Starling City next,” Laurel explained. Just thinking about how messed up a person had to be to do that kind of thing gave her the creeps.

“Jeez, why not just buy jewels with the bomb money?”

Oliver smirked. “Unfortunately, I think he’d still come up short for the kind of jewels he wants. People put a lot of value on them.”

“We’re here,” Diggle announced, and they all got out of the car. Thea went through the front while the three of them headed into the base through the back door. “So, what’s the plan tonight?”

“What about the Dodger?” Laurel suggested.

“This the bomb guy?” Digg checked. She nodded and handed him her phone for him to read. “We got time for that, Oliver?”

Oliver frowned. “I was going to pay a visit to Ken Williams tonight. He’s stolen millions from people through a pyramid scheme, he’s on the list, and he seems the type to break if you put the right pressure on him.”

“Ideal candidate,” Digg agreed.

Laurel still had some misgivings. “But if this thief is in town, he could get in and out while you’re interrogating Williams.”

“The mission takes priority, Laurel.”

“Well, this guy does use bombs, Oliver.” John had finished scanning the article and passed her phone back. “Does seem pretty dangerous to let him run around unchecked.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t exactly be in two places at once,” said Oliver.

An idea came to her. “What if you didn’t have to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me handle Williams,” she said. “I can make a case against him and call him in for negotiations or a settlement, and then we’ll talk. That leaves you free to handle the Dodger.”

“I don’t know if that’s safe, Laurel.”

She rolled her eyes. There was a reason she still hadn’t told him about her lessons with Digg, not to mention her shopping around for an additional trainer. “It’s a legal case, Ollie. The worst I can get is a paper cut. I’ll hit him with the evidence of his pyramid scheme and offer him a deal if he gives us information on the Undertaking.”

Oliver frowned. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll get more done in the same amount of time that way,” John remarked. “Plus, if you go after Dodger instead of Williams, it’ll make it harder for the Dark Archer and his boss to predict our next move.”

“I don’t want anyone knowing what we’re doing,” Oliver agreed. “But if Williams doesn’t break—”

“He will,” Laurel said. “It’s either that, or he’s going to court for his crimes. I’d guess most of the people on that list would do anything to save their own skins.”

“Alright, we’ll try it this way.” Oliver took a seat in front of the computer. “For now, let’s get to work tracking down this Dodger.”

While he and Diggle set to work, she got started pulling together all the information Oliver had recovered about Williams and his pyramid scheme. Even if she wasn’t planning to go to court over this, it would be important to make the proceedings look as legitimate as possible.

Laurel spent the whole next day drawing up papers against Williams to be sent over to his office. She was missing Thea and her assistance, but it was her day off community service. Probably for the best that she didn’t get mixed up in this, come to think of it.

She received an email just before getting ready to log off from Mike Burr, Williams’ attorney, demanding a meeting. Laurel was only too happy to oblige, inviting the pair of them to CNRI the next morning. It was clear Burr wanted to settle this discretely and quickly, which was exactly her aim as well.

While Oliver was out that night she and John squeezed in some more training at the base. As impatient as she was to get really started, she could admit going over these basics was proving more useful than she’d thought. It’d make her all the more ready to begin with a new trainer.

She’d changed back into her usual clothes by the time Oliver returned, frustrated since the Dodger had given both him and the cops the slip, but he and Diggle began drawing up a new plan.

“See, he didn’t get to steal anything, either, so he’ll want to pick up something before he goes,” Digg explained. “If we can figure out the kind of stuff he’s after, we’ll know where he’s planning to strike next.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

“Just get Williams to talk,” Oliver said.

“Oh, I’ll make him sing,” she promised, then smirked. “That’s what I do, right?”

Ollie only turned a dull red this time while John laughed. “Should have left you both wondering.”

She got in the car with the pair of them, going back over some of her notes while they drove to her apartment. To her surprise, Oliver got out of the passenger seat just as she was exiting the car.

“Pretty sure this is my stop,” she remarked. “Not yours.”

“Yeah, well, in case Williams or his lawyer get ideas like Sommers did, I can’t be all the way back at the manor,” he explained. Oliver took her arm and began walking them to the building. “I’ll stay on the couch.”

“I have a guest room.”

He gave a minute shake of the head as they crossed the lobby to the elevator. “Front room is better.”

“Yeah, but Ollie, the couch?”

“A bad mattress was the least of my problems on the island. I’ll be fine.”

Laurel sighed. She knew Oliver had endured terrible conditions, and she respected that he had done so. She just wished he knew he didn’t have to keep subjecting himself to situations like that or measuring pain in those kind of extremes anymore. Just because he could spend a night on the couch didn’t mean he should have to.

She knew better than to argue the point with him now. And as much as she wanted to argue she could take care of herself, she also knew she wasn’t ready to take on the likes of the Triad if Williams went that far. Not yet, anyway.

Laurel got out a mountain of blankets and pillows in an effort to make the couch a little more comfortable, and noticed how Oliver carefully laid his shoes on the floor at one end. She had a feeling he could be ready to jump into them at a moment’s notice if he needed to.

“Try and get some actual sleep, okay?” She requested.

“Don’t worry about me.”

She shook her head. “Worry goes both ways, Ollie.” Laurel walked back to the hallway and paused at her door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It was a little difficult settling down at first, knowing he was out there in the next room. Sharing an apartment, if only for one night, just like she’d wanted all those years ago...Laurel drifted off into dreams of a far more pleasant kind than she’d been used to the last five years, though she would never admit them to a living soul.

She woke to the smell of coffee and eggs coming from the kitchen, and she slipped into her robe to follow the scent. Oliver was at the stove, some of his hair sticking up in little tufts here and there, and she couldn’t fight back a smile.

“Helping yourself?”

He looked back at her with a smirk. “I was lucky to find this much in your fridge. But no, these are for you.”

She grabbed two plates anyway and stood with her arms crossed until he split the food and joined her at the table.

“Big day today.”

She nodded and swallowed down her mouthful of eggs. “I guess on the scale of evil, Williams is slightly better than Sommers. No break-in.”

“No,” he agreed. “But we should keep our guard up all the same. He could decide to after you two talk.”

“Well, if we’re making this a habit, then you’re definitely taking the guest room. You can’t fight bad guys if you have a bad back,” she pointed out before he could open his mouth.

Oliver thought it over for a minute. “We’ll see.”

Laurel stood and put her plate in the sink. “I’m going to get ready. Do you, uh, need the shower?”

“I’ll just get one back home. Digg’s on his way to pick me up. We think there might actually be something in my family’s collection we can tempt the Dodger with.”

Laurel left her bedroom door open while she looked through her closet for a change of clothes. In the kitchen, water was running in the sink, and she’d bet anything Oliver had started on the dishes. “How’s that?”

“There’s an auction event tonight. I’ll tell you more about it at lunch.”

“We’re getting lunch, too?”

“We are now,” she heard him reply.

Laurel smiled to herself. She had a feeling that was more to do with how eager Oliver would be to hear whatever intel she obtained from Williams, but that wasn’t a bad thing in her eyes.

“Digg’s here,” Oliver called to her. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

She heard the front door open and shut, and Laurel moved through the rest of her morning routine before heading out herself.

All in all, she was in high spirits when she led Williams and Burr back into the empty conference room at CNRI later that morning. Burr was making a big show at being belligerent.

“You have nothing substantial on my client. You don’t even have a plaintiff.”

Laurel gestured to the other side of the table and sat down as they did, making a show of thumbing through the folder sitting there. “What I have is a pretty big file. Practically the size of a book. And it’s got quite the long list inside,” she added, lifting her eyes to lock with a rapidly paling Williams. “A list that’s been preoccupying Mr. Williams’ thoughts the last few months, if I’m not mistaken.”

“What are you talking about?” The attorney looked between her and Williams. “Ted, what’s she talking about?”

“Get out, Mike,” Williams muttered.

“What?”

“I said get the hell out!”

“You heard your client,” Laurel said with a smirk.

Burr glared at her but had gotten the message from Williams, and he shook his head as he stood and exited the room.

Williams leaned over the table. “How do you know about that list?”

“That’s not important. What is important is what _you_ know, Mr. Williams. Such as the name of the person who wrote it.”

“You’re- you’re kidding, right? I can’t tell you that.”

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. We can just go to trial for your pyramid scheme, and you can kiss coaching your son’s soccer team goodbye for a long time.” She glanced up at him. “Your call.”

Williams gaped at her. “This is blackmail.”

“Which is something you’re familiar with, isn’t it? That’s what the list was written for, right?” She pressed. “Who has been blackmailing you, Mr. Williams?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because whoever is in charge of this isn’t a friend to the people of this city. He’s the one who ordered the copycat archer to take those hostages at Christmas. Whatever else he’s planning has to be stopped, and we both know the police aren’t going to be the ones who do it.”

“And you think you will?” He nearly laughed.

“If not me, then someone. I think we both know there’s another archer who’s pretty keen on the list.” She shrugged. “You can talk to him instead if that’s what you want.”

Williams turned red. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s an inevitability. You and I both know you’ve done enough to put you in his sights eventually. Think about your son, Mr. Williams. Do you really want to explain why the two of you get a visit from the Hood one night?” Laurel knew, of course, that Williams’ son would never be in danger of Ollie. But he also liked striking the fear of God into people like Ken Williams, so she didn’t think he’d mind her implying the worst if it got them the answers they needed.

“You can’t—”

“I can stop that from happening. I just need a name.”

“Merlyn!” Williams blurted. “Malcolm Merlyn.”

Laurel sat back. “ _What_?”

Of all the names that had even crossed her mind, that had never been one of them. Malcolm was Tommy’s dad. He’d been one of Mr. Queen’s best friends. He was Starling City’s _humanitarian of the year._

“He wrote the list. He’s the one who let us know what he knew, that he’d turn us over to the police if we didn’t do what he wanted. Donate money, build a hospital, that sort of thing. But he stopped asking about five years ago,” Williams said in a rush. “I thought it was done. He said it was over!”

“He ended it? Why?” Maybe if he had, then Williams was wrong. Maybe it was someone else pulling the strings now—

But Williams shook his head. “No. I’ve already told you too much. I have to get out of this city before he finds out about this. My son. We’ll have to move. Do you understand? That’s the kind of power he has.”

“Mr. Williams, you’re not saying—”

“You should get yourself out, too, if you know what’s good for you.”

“But—”

Williams was already walking, however, and the door slammed shut behind him. Laurel sat there for an unknowable time. Williams had looked and sounded absolutely genuine — but how could it be true?

—-

He tried not to drum his fingers on his leg as he watched the traffic slowly pass by. They had plenty of time before the gala tonight where their trap on the Count would be sprung.

Oliver glanced at the brooch sitting in wrapping on the seat beside him. Diggle would be the one to deliver it to the organizers. Oliver was planning to meet him a little later; he had a ticket to the event he needed to give Laurel — a good way to maintain their cover of dating if nothing else — and he wanted to know what she’d gotten out of Williams.

Soon enough, the car came to a stop outside the law office, and he got out of the car.

“Hey, Oliver.”

He turned back. John had rolled down the window and held out his phone with a notification on the screen displayed.

_Chen returns home after deal with Beijing_

“I’ve been tracking the business section. Figured that’d be our best shot at hearing news.” Digg clicked the link and scanned the article. “Says he got in mid-morning yesterday.”

“Keep an eye on that. Good work, John.” He patted the roof of the car and turned to head into CNRI as his friend pulled away.

Frank Chen was back. What did that mean?

Hopefully that and whatever Laurel was able to get from Ken Williams would be good news.

When he entered the office, Laurel wasn’t at her desk. A woman named Anastasia told him she was still in a meeting, and he stated he intended to wait. He displayed the gala ticket for good measure. Better for people to think he was here for only a date.

He wasn’t kept waiting long. The door to CNRI’s conference room swung open. Oliver hid his smirk as he watched Williams leave in a hurry, looking incredibly shaken. That was Laurel.

It took longer for her to emerge. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Frustration, disappointment, perhaps a wide self-satisfied grin?

Not this. Not the tense, wide-eyed fear Laurel seemed to only just barely be keeping a lid on as she walked right up to him and took his arm.

“So, lunch?”

“Sure.” He tucked the gala ticket away in his pocket. “Everything okay?”

“Not here,” she muttered.

He didn’t even spot Thea before they’d left the building, and Laurel led them a few streets away without showing any signs of slowing.

He tugged her to a stop. “Laurel, what’s going on? What did Ken Williams say?”

She still looked to be in shock, and it took her some time to raise her gaze to his.

“It’s Malcolm. Tommy’s dad.”

The air left his lungs in one exhale. He had to question his own ears for a moment. But there was no mistaking who Laurel meant.

“Are we sure?”

“Williams was. And he’s planning to leave the city as soon as possible now that he’s told me. I mean, Oliver, he sounds _terrified_ of Malcolm.”

It just seemed so unreal. Sure, at times Malcolm could seem a little distant or cold, usually when it came to Tommy. But to think he could be behind something like this?

“We’ll watch to see what Williams does, whether this is some kind of bluff. Then I’ll interrogate another person to see if their stories match.” It was tantamount that they verify this before taking the next step. There would likely only be one chance to catch the man behind the Undertaking unawares. If this was a setup, Oliver didn’t plan to fall for it.

Laurel nodded, seeming to calm from hearing his reasoning. “Okay. What about Tommy?”

“Don’t say anything to him. He’s not involved either way.” Once they knew the truth about Malcolm, then a decision could be made. “We’ll figure this out, Laurel.”

Oliver weighed the pros and cons of going after another person on the list or skipping up the food chain to Chen now that he was back. Chen might be more likely to report to his boss, even if he did know more. Assuming he was in the know at all.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He’d already set a trap for the Dodger tonight, and that he had to follow through. So Oliver withdrew the tickets again.

“For now, I was wondering if you wanted to help me stop a thief tonight?” He pitched his tone purposefully light; he didn’t like seeing her look so shaken. It seemed to work. She glanced up and met his eyes, one corner of her lips quirking upward.

“If I didn’t know any better, that would almost sound like a date,” Laurel remarked.

“We vigilantes make do.”

“Uh-huh.” She plucked one of the tickets from his grasp. “When should I expect you and John?”

“Seven. The gala officially kicks off at eight.”

“Alright. I should get back to the office so I can head out a little early, then. Which means a rain check on lunch.” She placed the gala ticket in her purse, then looked up at him. “Thanks for helping me process, well, that.”

“No problem. I’m not sure I would’ve known what to say if Williams had told me Malcolm’s name.”

“Well, I needed a bit of grounding, and you gave me that.” She leaned in for a hug, which he was only too glad to return. “I’ll see you at seven, Ollie.”

“See you, Laurel.”

He watched her walk away, and grinned when she looked back upon reaching the door to smile at him. It wasn’t hard to fake dating Laurel, and that was probably a problem. He’d spent the night at her place, cooked breakfast for the pair of them, and now was planning on attending a gala with her on his arm. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start forgetting this wasn’t real. Oliver turned and took out his phone to text Diggle for a lift back to the manor.

If Malcolm Merlyn really was the man behind this unknown Undertaking, though, they had even bigger problems. As much as he wanted to know the truth about his father’s mission and how to end it, Oliver almost hoped they were wrong.

—-

Moira looked up as Frank was shown into her sitting room for the second time in two days. It would be safe to talk in here for a while yet; Thea was upstairs in her room and would make plenty of noise should she choose to come downstairs, and Oliver was out for the evening.

Normally, she might have started off with the usual pleasantries, but time was of the essence. As soon as Raisa was out of earshot, she asked, “So, I assume you’ve given some thought to my plan?”

Frank remained standing. “I have, but I’m afraid we have more pressing concerns, Moira.”

“What do you mean?”

“Malcolm asked me to see Ken Williams this evening. It appears he moved a large sum of money from his bank and was in the process of firing his home staff and arranging for a successor to his business. I believe this made Malcolm nervous.”

“He thought Ken was fleeing the country.” Even if Malcolm had ended his extortion scheme in favor of the Undertaking, he still liked to keep tabs on those on the list.

“Yes, and he was. But not from the law, even if a case was just opened up against him.” Frank folded his hands together, she suspected in an effort to hide any fidgeting or shaking. “He and his lawyer went for a meeting with the prosecutor this morning, only it turned out the case being brought against him had less to do with his crimes and more to do with a certain list.”

Moira gasped. “No.”

“He told her everything, Moira. He gave her Malcolm’s name.”

The list. How had someone gotten a copy of the list? Robert’s had been destroyed with the _Gambit_ , and she had tossed hers in the fire after Oliver had returned it to her.

“There’s more, I’m afraid. The prosecutor is a Dinah Laurel Lance.”

Her legs trembled, and she knew if she’d been standing they would have failed her.

“You know her.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Moira, I can only assume there is one way she could have come by this information.”

Her head bowed. “Oliver.”

What had he done? Oh, her son. She’d tried to warn him, tried to get him to leave it alone. And Laurel, with her questions and worries the last few months. She should have been keeping a better eye on things. That innocent girl.

“It’s too dangerous to move against Malcolm now,” Frank said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Ken Williams’ departure has made him suspicious, and I will have to tell him at least some of what I’ve found out.”

Moira stood. “Frank, you can’t let him think Oliver’s involved in this.”

“Of course not. But if Miss Lance is allowed to keep digging, Malcolm will figure it out on his own. She must be silenced.”

“No.” She turned away from him. It was unthinkable. “We stick to the plan, Frank. Malcolm has to be stopped.”

“Malcolm is too suspicious now. He’ll be taking every precaution, and even a hint of dissent will be enough for him to remove either of us. I have to report to him by tonight. I’m postponing as long as I can for Ken to get his son out of the country, but any longer will have Malcolm questioning both our loyalties.”

“If you report to him that Laurel knows, he’ll have to know Oliver is involved.”

“I won’t tell him the lawyer’s name yet. Malcolm should put me in charge of tracking that information down, and it will buy us time until he’s completed the Undertaking and gotten what he wants.”

The Undertaking. The closer it approached, the less far-fetched and impossible it seemed. All those people...

“It’s the only way. If she tells Oliver what she’s learned, assuming she hasn’t already, Malcolm will not be happy. You must do this, Moira, for your family.”

“She _is_ family,” Moira insisted.

Frank watched her, giving away little emotion. “I understand you are fond of her. But choices have to be made, Moira. If we allow her to go on, Malcolm will realize Oliver’s involvement. Then he’ll have them both killed.”

He was right, and she didn’t know what to do.

Everything she had done was to keep Thea, and then Oliver when he’d come back to them, safe. She was remaining silent about Walter’s kidnapping for their safety. Her own husband. As much as she didn’t want to see Laurel caught up in this — hadn’t the Lances lost enough already to Malcolm’s schemes? — she had gone this far to ensure her children’s survival. What would be the point of any of it if she gave up now?

“What do you suggest?”

“I have reached out to my contacts in the Triad. They are willing to provide a man for the job. We simply give them a new target.”

Moira’s eyes closed. She felt a chill, like a piece of ice was settling in her heart. “Oliver would never recover.”

“Perhaps. But he would be alive.” Frank paused. “I need an answer.”

“Do it,” she snapped, then covered her face with one hand. “If you think it’s best.”

“This should all be over soon, Moira. We have to keep going, for our families.”

He touched her shoulder briefly, but Moira shrugged it off. Frank left without another word, and she sank back down to the couch.

For one wild moment, she had thought she could see a way out of the Undertaking, out of Walter’s captivity, out of being under Malcolm’s thumb. Now she was more trapped than ever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Apologies if this update is shorter. I wanted to wrap up the Dodger stuff before moving forward with the plot, but I'm hoping you all enjoy this chapter in meantime. Thanks for reading!

Laurel let herself into her apartment and went straight back to the closet in her room, eyeing everything that hung there critically. It had been quite a few years since she’d needed to attend some fancy to-do like this, and she wasn’t exactly sure if anything she had was up to snuff.

A second opinion would probably help. Thea was out of the question, both because she was not about to ask Oliver’s sister what to wear on a date with him and also because she wouldn’t have a good idea of what Laurel had on hand. Joanna had been on a few shopping trips with her, though, and even talked her into buying a couple of the dresses she now owned. And she’d missed talking to her friend about casual stuff like this.

Laurel set her phone on speaker as she took a couple of items out and laid them on her bed. After two rings, it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jo, it’s me.”

“Hey, how’s everything been going? CNRI coping without me?”

“Just barely,” Laurel answered with a grin. “I’m going out tonight, and I wanted your opinion on what to wear.”

“Well, what kind of going out are we talking here?” Her friend asked. “Clubbing? Drinks with a friend? Dare I even say a date?”

“Believe it or not, it is.”

“What?” Laurel was glad she didn’t have the phone to her ear, because that exclamation would have had her wincing. “Oh my God, the day has come! What kind of date? With who?”

“It’s one of those fancy rich people auctions,” Laurel explained, then braced herself as she added, “and Oliver invited me.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Joanna started.

“Well, well, well.”

Laurel held back a groan. Just barely. “I know.”

“I didn’t say anything yet.”

“Go ahead.”

“I just seem to remember you being very dead set against anything like this happening when Oliver got back — not that anyone would blame you. But seriously, did he at least get down on his knees and beg first?” Joanna asked.

“I know what I said before.” Laurel shook her head. “I can’t really explain it, but he’s just a different person than he was, Joanna. He’s still Oliver, but I know I can trust him now. He gets that life isn’t just some game you can solve with money and good looks, and he really cares about how his actions affect other people. That’s on his mind a lot.” The whole reason he’d taken on the mission of the Hood in the first place was the responsibility he felt to right the wrongs his father committed.

“Well, I guess as long as you’re happy with it, that’s what matters,” her friend said. Laurel didn’t answer that.

Was she happy? She felt better than she had the last few months, knowing the truth and being involved in more than just the sidelines. And everything she’d told Joanna about Oliver was true; she really believed he’d learned from his mistakes and was working every day to be better. She respected that about him and cared for him because of it, even if they weren’t actually dating. And she could admit, if only to herself, she wouldn’t mind if they actually were.

“So, wardrobe advice?”

Laurel blinked. “Uh, yeah. Trying to decide between the red or blue dress. Floor length, the both of them. You know which ones I’m talking about, right?”

“Uh-huh. Well, they’re both good choices for that kind of event. I guess the question is, what kind of mood are you trying to set?”

Laurel wasn’t sure how to put ‘catching an art thief’ into a mood. “Nothing in particular. It’s just a date, Jo.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between bold, hooking-up-after-this red and elegant, I’ll-invite-you-up-if-you’re-lucky blue. You know?”

“We’re not hooking up,” Laurel stated. And she wasn’t looking to stand out from the crowd so much as blend in so she could spot the thief that didn’t belong. “Blue it is. Thanks. Let me know if you’re free sometime soon.”

“Oh, I will. I have got to get these details, for one thing. And I’ve missed you a lot,” Joanna added before she could even start to roll her eyes. “I’ll let you get ready for your date. Have fun.”

“I’ll try.” Laurel picked up the blue dress as Joanna hung up and held it in front of a mirror. She wasn’t sure how much fun tonight would be, but it definitely would be interesting.

She’d finished getting ready with five minutes to spare when Oliver sent the text that he was outside. Laurel took the elevator down and found John waiting in front of the car to open the back door for her.

“Miss Lance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diggle.” She had to bite her lip to hold in a smile. Sometimes playing along with the charade just felt a little ridiculous, and tonight promised to be especially over the top.

Oliver was sitting in the back as she slid inside, and he looked up. There was a brief pause, and he licked his lips before saying, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You cleaned up well, too.” She was glad the lights were low in the car; her face was already feeling a little warm as she looked him up and down in the tux. She was painfully aware of her own words of a few months ago:  _ obviously, we’re still attracted to each other. _

Oliver cleared his throat and leaned over as the car started to move, showing Laurel his phone screen. “This is the brooch I’ve donated from my family’s collection. We’ll need to keep our eyes on it and on the lookout for Dodger. Winnick Norton is his actual name, though I doubt he’ll be using it to get into the event.”

“Right.” Laurel studied the photo for a few minutes before passing it back over. “Any reason why he’ll be interested in the brooch and not anything else?”

“Everything he steals comes from the same time period. The Ominous Decade. The brooch will be the only piece from that time at the gala, so it’s the only option he’s got.”

“Well, that’s lucky.”

“We’re coming up to the front, you two,” Digg called into the back. “I’ll drop you off and park, then see if I can get any intel from event security.”

“Sounds good,” Oliver replied. He got out when the car stopped, walking around to her door and opening it for her. As much as she wanted to shake her head at all the formality, she knew the important thing to do was to go along with it and not seem suspicious.

He offered his arm, and she took it, walking up the steps and through the front doors. There were already a few people milling about and admiring the exhibits.

“Mr. Queen.” A woman in a smart pantsuit walked up to them. “Thank you so much for your generous donation. I hope you enjoy the event.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure,” Oliver replied with a quick smile. They moved on and he leaned in close to murmur in her ear, “The important thing is to always have someone’s eyes on the brooch. We don’t want Dodger sending someone to grab it right out from under our noses.”

“Alright, so take turns?”

She felt as much as saw his nod as his chin tickled her hair. Laurel was about to turn to him when she was suddenly blinded by the flash of a camera.

“Oliver Queen and Dinah Laurel Lance! Out for a night together?”

Paparazzi. The absolute worst part of these high society functions. She hadn’t missed them.

“Miss Lance! Does this mean you’ve forgiven Mr. Queen for the events of five years ago?”

“Uh, no comment,” Laurel stammered. She could barely make out any individual faces through the next several camera flashes.

“Mr. Queen!”

“Miss Lance!”

“If you all could back up, please,” John requested, appearing from what seemed thin air and using his bodyguard position to his advantage. A fair few of the paparazzi were inclined to listen to him based on the authority in his voice and look alone.

“Come on,” Oliver muttered in her ear. With one hand at the small of her back, he guided her out into an empty side hall, the heavy doors shutting out the shouts and clicks of cameras.

Laurel drew in and let out a breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She glanced to the side at him. “Just forgot how intense the paparazzi could be at these kind of events.”

“They shouldn’t even get in the door,” Oliver said with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Oliver. I should be well aware what dating you entails by now.”

He was silent, though she could tell there was a lot on his mind.

“Hey, you need to get back out there, okay? I’ll join you and John in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Oliver brushed his fingers along her arm briefly, then turned and slipped back through the door to the main room. Laurel swallowed and tried to ignore the goosebumps his touch had left behind on her arm.

Was this just attraction or something more? She could never seem to keep her head straight around Oliver.

But she needed to get a grip. Tonight wasn’t about them. That was just the cover. They had a dangerous man to catch.

Laurel adjusted her grip on the clutch she carried and stepped forward towards the doors—

A gloved hand gripped her forearm and a stick was shoved in her face. Sparks flew from the tip for a brief instant, causing her to jump back, right into the chest of the man threatening her with it.

“Careful there, love. That’s a stun baton. I would hate to have to use it on you.”

“You’re the Dodger,” she breathed.

“You’ve heard of my work? I’m flattered,” the thief said in her ear. She felt him slide something around her neck and click it into place, and her heart rate picked up with a sudden spike of fear. The bomb collar.

“Now then, since you know what I do, I’ll just cut right to the chase. There’s a pretty little brooch on display out in that room that I need you to get for me. You do that and bring it back here without alerting the authorities, and I’ll let you go safe and sound.”

Laurel had to think fast. She couldn’t do as he asked because that would mean losing the brooch and him. How closely would he be watching her out in that room? Could she somehow get Oliver or John’s attention? Or was that putting too many people at risk?

And there was a part of her that was just about fed up with all these attacks on her.

Laurel dropped her clutch so she had one hand free to reach back and grab a fistful of the Dodger’s shirt while knocking his arm that held the stun baton behind. She failed to duck his own swing at her when she spun around, but before he could follow it up Laurel returned it with her own punch to his face.

He dropped the baton with a grunt, and it went rolling out of reach for the both of them. She could either let go of her grip on the Dodger to run for it or—

Laurel tightened her hold on his shirt collar, dragging him closer, and grabbed his arm with her other hand, twisting his wrist so that he let out a sharp gasp of pain. “Get this thing off me.”

“And why would I do that, darling?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna march us right back through those doors for everyone to see.”

Dodger’s eyes narrowed. “If you do that I’ll—”

“What, blow us both up?” Laurel couldn’t help a smirk as she watched the realization sink in. “You don’t like to get your own hands dirty on a job, do you? That’s why you force other people to steal. Well, sometimes the people you want to use know how to fight back.”

“You’re bluffing,” he rasped.

“No, Mr. Norton, you are,” she said. “Which one of us is going to call it?”

They stared at each other for several tense moments, Dodger trying to break her hold and Laurel keeping a firm grasp on his arm. It was her only option at this point; letting the thief go meant her death. If he proved stronger than her, this wasn’t going to end in her favor.

She couldn’t pinpoint how long their confrontation had been going on, just that there was sweat beginning to bead at her brow. But it was long enough that the door to the main hall opened again, and Oliver stuck his head back in.

“Laurel, are you—” He froze.

Dodger struggled harder, and she scraped at his calf with her heel in retaliation. He gave a yelp and then glared.

“Ollie, hey,” Laurel said, forcing her tone to remain light. Whatever Dodger would think of her, they couldn’t afford anyone getting ideas that Oliver had been here to set him up. “Get Mr. Diggle?”

Oliver stood there another moment before turning sharply and indicating to someone back in the main room. Then he came forward and took hold of both Dodger’s wrist and his neck, shoving him up against a wall.

“Oliver!”

“Who are you, and what have you done to Laurel?” It was a wonder he’d even remembered to play ignorant considering he wasn't bothering to hide his anger in the slightest.

“The better question is what’s she done to me,” Dodger replied. “Unbelievable. A vigilante spoiled my first attempt in Starling and now this. Your police should hang up their caps in shame.”

John came through with some additional security from the event, and he took over holding Dodger in place while the thief was searched. A device turned up that was apparently linked to the collar still around her neck.

“Here, hold still. I handled bombs in Afghanistan,” John said, one hand on her shoulder. He hit one of the buttons and the collar popped loose. Laurel let out a breath as John removed it and passed it over to security.

“I’m not scared. I don’t know why I’m shaking.”

“That’s the adrenaline,” John told her. “It’ll wear off.”

Oliver meanwhile was doing his best impression of an indignant rich person. “I want this man in a cell at the SCPD.”

“Of course, Mr. Queen. We apologize for the ordeal you and your guest were put through.”

Dodger was taken away, and Oliver immediately turned around to face her now that it was the three of them. “What happened?”

“I was about to head back out to you and Digg, but Dodger grabbed me from behind. He must have been looking for people on their own to use as his proxy.” Laurel shrugged. “I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah. He threatened me, mostly, but I wasn’t hurt much.” Her side where he’d struck it was a little sore, but nothing felt broken or anything serious.

Oliver stepped forward and cupped her face with both hands. For a single moment, Laurel thought — but he pressed a kiss to the top of her head instead. She couldn’t help a slight feeling of disappointment she did her best to hide.

The murmur in the main room was getting loud enough to be noticed, and in the distance the wail of a police siren was getting louder. Laurel sighed, not at all in the mood to stand around answering questions or giving a statement while the paparazzi no doubt hovered around taking pictures.

“What’s the betting it’s my dad?”

“Could be McKenna Hall. She was at the scene when I went after Dodger the first time. But they can wait. You two head out the back, and I’ll talk to the organizers and the cops.” Oliver made to leave, but paused and looked to Digg. “Stay with her.”

“You got it.”

As much as she didn’t want to be coddled, she was also glad for the excuse to get out of there, so Laurel followed after Digg to the lot where he’d parked. It felt weird to get in the back when she was the only other person in the car, but Oliver would be rejoining them at some point.

“So, not exactly a night on the town,” she remarked.

“No. Never is when it comes to Oliver. But now we can focus on getting the truth about Malcolm Merlyn, so I’d say this worked out for the best.”

Malcolm Merlyn. On one hand, if it was true that meant they were that much closer to stopping things. On the other, her heart felt heavy whenever she considered the idea that Tommy’s dad might be involved. What would that do to their friend?

“Sort of makes you grateful to the Dodger for the distraction,” she muttered.

“Maybe so. But Laurel—”

She looked up. Her friend and trainer gave her an approving nod.

“Nice job.”

She smiled back at him. “Thanks, John.”

—-

“We’re really making a habit of this,” McKenna remarked as she walked up to him.

Oliver tote his gaze from where Dodger was being led to a squad car by a cop and shook his head. “I kept my nose clean this time. Just here to represent my family.”

“So how come you’re the one being questioned?”

“Norton tried to attack my date, and I said I’d answer the questions for her for the moment. She promises to come down to the station tomorrow for a more complete statement, but I had my bodyguard take her to the car to avoid the cameras.”

“Ah.” McKenna gave a single nod. “I will need your date’s name now, though. Has to go in the file.”

It was definitely fortunate she was primarily working this case as opposed to Lance. Oliver still briefly cleared his throat before replying, “Dinah Laurel Lance.”

McKenna looked up instead of writing, both eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s a turn up for the books. Sorry, not professional.”

“That’s okay. We knew people would find it a little surprising.”

“Alright. I know Laurel’s good for showing up to the station, so I’ll let you get back to her. I hope she’s okay.”

“I’ll tell her you said so.” Oliver turned and started to walk towards the exit, but McKenna calling out to him brought him to a stop.

“Hey, Oliver!”

He turned back.

“I’d appreciate if you continued to keep your nose clean, if you catch my drift. Or me and the others in the bullpen are never gonna hear the end of it.” She cracked a wry grin as she said it. “Sorry.”

“I deserved it. And I promise you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He was able to leave after that for the car and got into the back. “We got lucky.”

“McKenna?” Laurel asked, and he nodded. She relaxed back against the seat. “Good.”

“He’ll probably be finding out soon,” Oliver felt he had to point out. He wasn’t insulted that Laurel seemed keen to prolong that moment; the last thing he really wanted was Lance even more on his case.

But there was something on his mind that was troubling him. “You fought Dodger.”

“Yeah. Well, I knew if I went along with what he wanted, we’d lose him.” She wasn’t looking at him. Instead her gaze was on her hands where they played with the clasp on her clutch. “The thing is, I’ve sort of been, um—”

“I offered to give her some pointers on keeping safe,” Digg interrupted. “She’s got defensive basics down. We’ve just been going over technique.”

“Uh-huh.” Oliver highly doubted it had actually been John to make the offer. More likely, Laurel had asked and he had agreed. He looked at her. “We talked about you staying safe.”

She was eyeing him with that familiar stubborn light in her eyes. “Well, sometimes fighting back is how you stay safe.”

“But sometimes that can end badly. I am grateful that didn’t happen tonight, but the people I go up against are dangerous, Laurel. They don’t fight fair, and there are times when I nearly haven’t won. And times when I haven’t.”

“I know that. And I never said I wanted to take on the Dark Archer in hand-to-hand, but I want to be useful to the team,” she insisted. “And that starts with me not being helpless.”

“I never said you were, but Laurel, I need you to be safe.”

“You’ve said.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. If something happened to you out there because I got you involved in this mission, I couldn’t live with myself.”

It was silent in the car for a long moment. Laurel’s lips were parted slightly, and she couldn’t seem to find the words for a moment. “Ollie…”

“Laurel, we’re at your building.”

“Okay. Thanks, John.” She reached for the handle and glanced once back his way. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed softly as she left the car. He watched as she walked up to her building and disappeared through the doors with a swish of the skirt of her dress. Maybe it had been too much to hope for a lovely evening, but even when she was walking away from him she was beautiful.

Diggle’s voice called him back to reality.

“Man, you really lost your smooth moves on that island.”

Oliver sighed. “Home, John.”

When he did step through the doors of the mansion, he walked into something of an ambush. Thea popped out of the sitting room and gave a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Then she called back over her shoulder, “He’s home, mom!”

“Speedy, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, well you tell us. You’re the one who went to a gala where that bomber guy showed up.”

Right. He walked up to her as their mom was standing up from the couch and shutting off the news.

“I’m fine, promise.”

“What were you even doing there anyway?”

“I was on a date with Laurel,” he answered his sister. “Which you will probably see covered in the next tabloid issues. So don’t read those.”

“Laurel?” His mom repeated. “You’re seeing her?”

“Yeah.” He watched her for a moment. She seemed almost alarmed. “Is that okay?”

His mother recovered her usual grace with that question. “Of course it is. I’m just surprised, I suppose. Pleasantly.”

“Yeah, he really lucked out on that one,” Thea remarked.

He looked at her. “Don’t you need to be in bed so you can be well-rested for school?”

Thea rolled her eyes and made off for the stairs. “Night.”

He and their mom both replied in kind, and then Oliver turned back to her. “I’m sorry for worrying you or Thea. I promise everything was fine tonight. We were in more danger from the paparazzi than a bomber.”

“They can certainly be as ruthless as one,” she agreed.

He nodded and started to make his own way to the stairs.

“Oliver?”

He backed up until the sitting room was in view again. “Yeah, mom?”

His mother walked up to him, her hands clasped together. “Perhaps, in light of all the attention from the press, it might be best for you and Laurel to take some time away from Starling. There’s the beach house in Coast City. I’m sure some staff could have it ready within a week.”

“Not exactly beach season yet, mom.”

“No, maybe not on the West Coast,” she agreed. “There’s always some of the other vacation properties.”

Oliver stared at her for a moment. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she wanted him out of the city for another reason. And maybe he did know better. But whatever his mother was mixed up in — whether it involved Malcolm Merlyn or not — couldn’t involve getting him out of the way. At least, not when she didn’t know his identity.

“I’ll think about it,” he told her. It was an empty promise, but hopefully it would put her at ease for the time being. “Maybe once the club is up and running.”

“Alright.” She placed a hand to his cheek and smiled. “It’s good to see you happy again. I really am proud of you, sweetheart.”

In spite of everything he did and didn’t know about her, he couldn’t help himself feeling touched by the praise. “Thanks, mom.”

“I just want you to stay safe.”

“I try to,” he lied. His mother couldn’t know, of course, that there were reasons he had to take risks out there if he was going to save this city.

It took him a while to reach sleep once he had gotten into bed. He was tired, but there was still so much on his mind.

His mother wanted him to be safe while she engaged in who knew what; in turn, he wanted Laurel to be safe while going out there and risking his life most every night. Was he too much his mother’s son? Was it hypocritical of him? How did he balance his care for Laurel with respecting her decisions?

Oliver rolled onto his side and reached for his wallet. He took out the old picture that still sat there, his thumb smoothing over one of the folded corners. For five years, Laurel and her life and safety had kept him going through the worst tortures. But now that he was back, maybe it was time to stop imagining her or what she might say. Maybe it was time to listen to the actual person.

—-

“Detective, you got a minute?”

Quentin looked up from his desk at Hall’s approach. She was a good cop, even as new as she was. He’d been considering bringing her onto the task force for some time now. “Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to give you a heads up. We brought in the Dodger.”

“I heard. Good work on that.”

She smiled briefly, but shook her head. “Can’t take too much credit. Private security at the gala detained him after an altercation with one of the guests.” She paused. “That guest was your daughter.”

Quentin’s mouth dropped open. “Laurel? What was she doing at one of those things?” She hadn’t been anywhere near that high society nonsense, not since—

“She was there on invitation. And she’ll be coming in to fill out a witness report for me tomorrow. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Hall left for her desk before he could demand any further information. But he had a rotten feeling in his gut, and it started with a Q.

He made sure he was in the bullpen bright and early the next morning, not wanting to miss Laurel’s arrival. Quentin hadn’t had a real chance to talk to her since their fight about the Hood’s phone, and that had been eating at him. So had Merlyn’s information about her sniffing around something to do with the Triad. And now with this, well, the silent treatment was out the window. Clearly if he didn’t keep a close watch on things, his daughter tended to lose her head.

Laurel showed up around 10:30, easily navigating her way through the station. Hall had gone for coffee,

Which left Laurel standing in the bullpen looking for the right desk. There was his opening.

“Hey, honey.”

“Dad.” Laurel’s expression was guarded at best. He might have felt guilty about that, but more likely she was feeling guilty. “I’m actually hear to see McKenna about a witness report.”

“Yeah, I heard. You were at that fancy auction last night. And how might you have come by an invite to that?”

Her voice was flat as she responded, “Dad, don’t do this here.”

“Do what? Catch up with my daughter? See if she’s doing okay? Ask her why in God’s name she’s decided to spit on her sister’s memory and go back to that cheating—”

“Yeah, that. That exactly,” Laurel cut him off just as his voice was starting to raise. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that Oliver is a changed person. I don’t know how much more evidence you need put in front of your own eyes, but he is. And I know that doesn’t bring Sara back, but I also know it was never his intention for her to die out there. So you can stop acting like it was.”

“Why are you wasting your time on him? Defending him? Just answer me that,” he said. “You’re always involving yourself with the wrong people. I just don’t know what I did for you to grow up that way.”

Laurel scoffed, her arms folded.

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Laurel, hey.” Hall had just entered the bullpen with her mug. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay,” his daughter replied, turning away from him completely. “I probably would have been held up regardless.”

She joined Hall at her desk, and they were both talking too quietly for him to pick up anything of use. With a scowl, Quentin returned to his own seat.

Laurel left the station without a goodbye, not that he was inclined to give his own. Hall got up without the file and left the room. Quentin glanced around. Hilton hadn’t come in yet, and no one else was going to call him on it.

He got up from his desk with some papers in hand and crossed the bullpen to Hall’s desk. Laurel’s witness report was still sitting right on top. He flipped through the testimony, his eyes widening as he read.

She’d fought off that thieving maniac? With a bomb collar strapped around her neck? What was going on in this city? And where the hell had Queen been?

Quentin had to hurry back to his desk at the sound of Hall’s approach, but his mind was buzzing. Laurel could have died last night. He could have lost his only daughter, all because of some date she’d been on with Queen. That rich idiot didn’t know when to quit.

He took off from his shift a little early and headed down to the bar. It was that kind of day. Quentin sat there, shoulders hunched as he nursed one, and then two, and then three drinks.

Trouble followed that man wherever he went. Less than two days after he’d come back, he’d been kidnapped. Then there’d been the hit at that party he’d held while under house arrest. Now this. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a pattern.

Actually, there’d been something else. He’d been there, too, that first night someone had tried breaking in to Laurel’s apartment. The Triad.

That had seemed open and shut. Martin Sommers had been working with them, and Laurel had been in the midst of prosecuting him. But then strange how Queen had just happened to be there.

And then again, when he’d first gotten worried, when he’d found out she had a client with Bratva ties — she’d been handling Queen’s case. She’d told him when he begged her to leave the Bratva alone that she didn’t have that client anymore...just after he’d dropped the charges on Queen.

Laurel wasn’t an idiot. If she really was seeing Queen, something about him had to be different than when he’d left on that boat. But that something didn’t have to be good. Laurel was just as bad as he was about attracting trouble. Quentin just couldn’t let go of the idea that there was some kind of connection between these seemingly disparate events.

Was he drunk? Was he crazy? Seeing something that wasn’t there?

Quentin put down some money for his tab and stumbled off the stool. He had to get this down in writing. Start drumming up some leads.

As he left the bar, he got a whiff of himself. It was pretty obvious where he’d been. He couldn’t go to the station like this.

Lance staggered home, his intent to shower and then to get to work on this clear in his mind. But by the time he cleared the front steps it was all he could do to make it to the couch.

Tomorrow. He would start tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been 84 years. Very sorry about that. Some of it was simply because I needed to watch through the action scenes in this episode a couple times to make sure I got those parts right (or right + the changes), but I will endeavor not to make the wait for next chapter this long. Hopefully, you enjoy the update!

Laurel found herself so busy between work, training, and spending time down in the base that the date almost flew past her. But luckily, she happened to be cross-checking her calendar for a so-called date night with Oliver for their cover when it hit her.

“Oh, no.”

Oliver frowned. “Is this week not good?”

“It’s not that. Tommy’s birthday is coming up.”

“Oh. Yeah, it is that time, isn’t it?”

She supposed those kinds of things had been of little concern on the island. As for her, she hadn’t seen much of their friend since she and Oliver put out the story that they were together again. Laurel still felt a little guilty for that, but then she didn’t really know whether Tommy wanted to see her anymore.

“We should do something. Or offer to, if he wants,” she decided.

“Yeah?”

“I could have some people over at my place, cook something—”

“Or order in,” he suggested. She shot him a look.

“Fine. I’ll see if Joanna wants to come. She’s been needing to get out of the house. Thea’s totally welcome. And you, John.”

“I imagine that would look a little odd considering my designated cover,” he replied over by the computers. “But thanks for asking.”

Laurel winced. Right, she and Oliver weren’t supposed to be good friends with him to an outside perspective. She looked to Oliver. “Do you want to ask Tommy?”

“Yeah, I can do that. This should be good for us.” He smiled, and a little of the weight he always carried on his shoulders these days seemed to lift.

What was unspoken, of course, was that neither of them knew what to do about Tommy now that his father was allegedly linked to Oliver’s mission. So far, Oliver had been taking things slow with the Frank Chen approach. He had gone to the man’s home and hidden bugs there, hoping to catch some kind of intel before approaching Chen as the Hood. They knew as soon as the Dark Archer and his boss got wind of that, they’d be on a clock, and they needed all the upper hand they could get.

Laurel gathered up her things. “Great. I’m heading out. There’s a gym in the area I wanted to have a look at.”

She’d started looking for one in the Glades to make it easier to move between there, work, and Oliver’s base as needed. It didn’t hurt that the prices were way cheaper than the higher-end trendy places.

Oliver nodded. She knew he was still a little leery of her training up, but since that night in the car he had seemingly elected not to say anything about it. Laurel knew when not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she wasn’t about to ask him what the change of heart was.

Laurel walked into the Wildcat Gym. It was definitely a very old school place, with a boxing ring in the center of the floor and some punching bags hung up around the room. One man stopped punching at a bag in the corner at her entrance and walked over, a towel slung around his neck.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you the owner?”

He nodded. “Ted Grant.”

“Laurel Lance,” she said. “I’m looking to get some training.”

“What kind.”

Her eyes drifted to the ring. “Boxing.”

He gave her a look. “You’re sure?”

Laurel nodded. If she wanted to know more than self-defense, she needed to have some kind of form or technique; John had told her as much.

There was a smile playing around his lips. “It’s not exactly for everyone. How about you look over one of these—” Ted leaned over to a table against the side of the room and picked up a brochure, which he held out to her. “—see what’s required, and then we’ll talk.”

He turned and headed back over to his things.

“I am serious about this,” Laurel said.

“Then you’ll look it over.”

She rolled her eyes and left the gym. Typical. What, because she’d come over in work slacks and heels, she clearly couldn’t be interested in boxing? She was sure if Oliver or John had arrived even in one of their nicest suits, they wouldn’t have gotten a brush-off.

Tommy agreed to the party, she was relieved to find out later that night, so Laurel spent some extra time on cleaning her apartment. In the end, she also floated an invite by McKenna Hall, seeing as she had once been one of the crowd in their wilder days. Since they were both working in the law, it wasn’t a bad idea to reconnect either. McKenna accepted, and so they were set for the end of the week.

Thea showed up first on her own, who looked around Laurel’s apartment with interest. “Nice place you got.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, I can see why Ollie’s always over here.”

Laurel just shook her head with a grin. She took out her phone and sent off a quick text to the girl’s brother.  _ Where are you? _

_ Got held up at the heliport. Be there in five, _ was his reply moments later. Laurel pocketed the phone; she’d have to wait either till after the party or tomorrow to hear what he might have been up to there.

There was another knock on the door, so Laurel headed over and checked through the peephole before opening it. “Well, if it isn’t the guest of honor.”

“What do you know, you’re hosting that dinner party after all,” Tommy replied.

She smiled and accepted his hug. “Not sure it’ll beat your usual bashes, but somebody had to try. Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.” He stepped further into the room. “Speedy, thanks for coming.”

“Beats sitting at home since all my friends ditched me,” Thea said.

“If your friends needed drugs to be your friends, those weren’t friends worth keeping,” her brother stated.

“Exactly.”

Laurel spotted both Joanna and McKenna exiting the elevator, so she left her door open and greeted Joanna with a hug and McKenna with a smile.

“Detective.”

“Counselor. Thanks for having me. You have no idea how hard it is to find a social life when you give up being the party girl.”

“Well, Thea was just telling us all about that,” Laurel remarked. She looked to Joanna. “How are things, Jo?”

“They’re doing better. Think my mom was actually glad to see me getting out of the house. So where’s Tommy?”

“Here,” he moved to shake both their hands. “Now we’re just waiting on Oliver.”

“Your wait is at an end,” Oliver announced as he entered through her still open door. He dropped a kiss to her cheek and moved to give Tommy a hug. “Happy Birthday.”

“Yeah, the first one in a while with you home.”

They all migrated to the sitting room, and Laurel found herself perched on the end of the couch beside Oliver. McKenna and Joanna were taking turns explaining how they knew everyone else. Thea was texting a certain someone labeled ‘purse thief’ in her phone, she noted with amusement.

Another knock came at her door. Laurel stood. “That’s probably the food.”

But when she went to the door, it was the last person she would have expected waiting on the other side. She froze. “Mr. Merlyn.”

The conversation in the living room stilled, and she heard first Oliver and then Tommy rise from their seats.

“Laurel, it’s very nice to see you,” Tommy’s father stated, a polite smile on his lips that didn’t quite seem to reach his cool blue eyes. “I was under the impression my son might be here tonight. I was hoping to see him.”

She took an involuntary step back, which he seemed to decide was a welcome. He nodded to someone over her shoulder. “Oliver.”

“Mr. Merlyn,” Oliver replied, a little stiffly. She could see his eyes mapping the distance from himself to her and to Malcolm Merlyn.

“What are you doing here, dad?” Tommy demanded. As Mr. Merlyn proceeded to try and invite him to the presentation of his Humanitarian of the Year award, things didn’t get any less tense. Tommy all but forced his father back out the door, and it left him in a sour mood for the rest of the night.

Oliver had little choice but to leave for his home with Thea, so she didn’t get the chance to talk to him privately until the next day when he dropped his sister off at CNRI. “What was going on at the heliport?”

“An international assassin was trying to get into the city. Things got...bad. I kept his phone, and I’m having someone look it over to see what his assignment was,” he told her.

Laurel looked down. It was hard, sometimes, hearing that Oliver had had to kill someone. She’d rather it was him who came out of a fight, the same way she always hoped for her father to come home safe from incidents no matter what it took. But her father had access to resources on the force Oliver didn’t: time off, counseling. The lives he took weighed on him, and she worried that he couldn’t see a way out of it on his own. Especially when it was often him against impossible odds in the field. He didn’t have a partner the way her father had Lucas Hilton, either.

But as seemed to be the case permanently in their lives, they were juggling more than just one thing. And she only had so much time with Oliver before he needed to get going to the Verdant.

“I was thinking about Mr. Merlyn’s invitation to Tommy last night,” she began.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I think we should try convincing Tommy to go, and that we should go with him in support.”

“Laurel, with what we suspect about Malcolm—”

“Exactly. The award ceremony is being held at Merlyn Global. It’s the perfect opportunity to have a look around and maybe plant some bugs like you did at Frank Chen’s place.”

Oliver paused. “That is a good idea. But I’m a little worried I’m becoming a bad influence on you.”

“Yeah, you probably should have worried about that  _ before _ you started supplying me with illegally obtained evidence for my cases,” she replied.

“Ah. Right.” Oliver had his lips pressed together, and she suspected he was trying not to smile.

The door to the conference room she’d commandeered opened, and Anastasia poked her head in. “I’m gonna need in here in ten minutes. Say bye to your boyfriend.”

“Read you loud and clear, Anastasia,” she called back. Laurel turned to Oliver just as he leaned in, and the peck on the cheek he’d probably been aiming for landed on her lips.

It wasn’t their best kiss, considering the unplanned nature of it. Still, her heart gave a funny stutter in her chest, and she felt herself blush as Oliver blinked at her in surprise.

“Um, I’ll see you later? And I’ll see if I can talk to Tommy,” he added after he cleared his throat. He was starting to back away towards the door, giving the impression of running away.

“Yeah, sounds good. See you.” Laurel let out a breath once he disappeared and hung her head.

She really was juggling way too much.

—-

John sighed as he pulled into the parking garage for Queen Consolidated a second time in the same week. They really were risking a lot always coming here for tech help.

But this was how Oliver wanted to do things. He wasn’t keen on bringing additional people in on his secret unless absolutely necessary. This IT specialist had to be thinking something was up by now, though.

“So your  _ friend’s _ phone was in Spanish,” Felicity Smoak began with a dubious look. She’d called them in after breaking Barrera’s encryption, so Oliver had sent Laurel a quick text to let her know he was going to be running late to the award ceremony and to head there with Tommy on her own. John had to marvel at how many moving pieces they were trying to manage at once.

“Uh, yeah. He’s trying to learn by immersion,” Oliver said.

“Well, once I worked past all of the encryption — and there was a lot, by the way — it looks like he’s going to an event tonight. The Municipal Group one? Some humanitarian award’s being given out, I think.”

The hit was scheduled for Merlyn’s event? That didn’t leave them a lot of time. He exchanged a look with Oliver, who then turned to Felicity.

“Great, thanks so much—”

“I’m not done,” she said, which brought them both up short. “Along with images of the building schematics, he also has a woman’s picture.”

She held up the phone, and John felt his heart drop.

“That can’t be right.”

But Laurel’s image was on display. Laurel, the target of an international assassin. How could that be?

Oliver’s face had gone extremely pale, and wordlessly he turned and ran from the office.

“Uh, is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” John lied, then hurried after his friend. They had to get him to the base to change as quickly as possible so he could reach the event in time.

“Think the Triad still has it out for her because of Sommers?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver was on his phone, but it didn’t look like he was reaching her. “And if they did, why the setup at the event? They know where she lives.”

“So there’s someone or something else at play.” Could it have something to do with Merlyn? Had he perhaps learned that his name had come up during her case against Ken Williams?

But then, having her attacked at an event for himself made little sense. Why connect himself to the assassination in any way? Were they wrong about Merlyn?

Oliver was leaping from the car before John had even finished pulling up behind the Verdant, and by the time he got downstairs his friend was halfway through changing into the Hood’s suit.

“Keep trying to call her, and when she picks up, tell her to find a small space with no windows until I get there. I’ll call Lance on my way to get the SCPD ready.”

“Right.”

Oliver left the base, and John stationed himself by the monitors.

Who would have done this? And why?

But those questions only mattered if they stopped it happening in time. John watched Oliver’s progress via the tracker in his boot, his heart hammering as if he was physically on the journey himself. In his hands, he held his phone, his thumbs sure as they pulled up Laurel’s number.

“Come on, come on.”

But the phone kept ringing.

—-

When Tommy left his apartment, he found Laurel’s car waiting at the curb as opposed to the one Mr. Diggle chauffeured Oliver and any guests around in. He slid into the passenger seat, and Laurel flashed him a quick smile.

“Well, you look, uh—” He desperately searched around for some word other than hot.

“Thank you,” she replied simply, saving him from that awkwardness. “That’s a good suit on you.”

“So where’s Oliver?”

“Um, I think he said something came up at home,” she told him. “So it’s you and me tonight until he can get away. That okay?”

“Fine by me.” Not fine for his lingering feelings, but considering he still wanted Laurel and Oliver both to be in his life, he was going to need to get over that at some point. Maybe tonight could be practice.

They arrived to find the lobby of Merlyn Global already packed. Tommy was glad to spot one other familiar face in the crowd, and he motioned Laurel to follow him over to the woman.

“Mrs. Queen,” he called as they approached, and she turned, her smile freezing for a moment.

“Tommy. Laurel.” Oliver’s mother tilted forward slightly, like she was thinking of reaching out or embracing one of them but thought better of it.

“How’s home?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, Ollie was supposed to come out with us tonight, but he told Laurel he couldn’t make it for family reasons.”

Mrs. Queen shrugged. “It must have been something to do with him and Thea. It’s probably for the best he’s staying home to settle things.” Her eyes drifted from him and landed, again, on Laurel. “But it’s good to see you both.”

She moved away, joining Mr. Chen, who Tommy remembered vaguely as a friend of his dad’s but hadn’t seen for a while. Laurel frowned and started to walk forward, but a man at the podium called everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Please help me welcome Starling City’s humanitarian of the year, Mr. Malcolm Merlyn.”

“Something the matter?” Tommy muttered as they clapped.

“It’s nothing.”

His father took the microphone and began his speech. When he brought up his mom and her death, Tommy had to look down. Laurel reached for and gave his hand a squeeze, and he flashed her a tight smile in gratitude.

The speech really wasn’t that bad, he had to grudgingly admit. It was perhaps the most genuine he’d seen his father be in a long time.

The lights suddenly went out, and a murmur broke out in the crowd.

“Hey, what?”

Laurel gripped his hand. “Tommy, we should get out of here.”

It was impossible to tell what was going on between the dark and mass of people. It was also proving difficult to move anywhere. People were shoving at each other in an attempt to get to the exits.

“Tommy! Tommy! Laurel!”

His father appeared and took hold of his shoulders. “There’s an exit on the second floor. “I wasn’t leaving until I knew you were safe.” He started pulling both him and Laurel towards the stairs. “Come with us, Laurel.”

But when they left the stairwell they immediately had to duck behind part of the wall to avoid a spray of bullets. Two men in waiter’s outfits stood at the end with guns. His father kept one arm thrown in front of him as glass shattered all around.

One of the shattered windows was caused by the Hood, who rolled across the floor and sprung up to hit one of the gunmen with an arrow. He didn’t have time to get the second one, and was forced to find his own cover.

Laurel made a start forward, and Tommy had to grab her arm.

The Hood looked back at them.  _ “Get her somewhere safe! I’ll hold them off.” _

Tommy glanced back at Laurel. What was this guy’s fascination with her, anyway?

_ “Go now!” _

His father nodded and made for a second stairwell. “Come on!”

“Where are we going?” Tommy could already feel a stitch forming in his side.

“Up,” was his father’s curt answer.

“Who are those guys?”

“Triad, probably,” Laurel replied just as his father opened his mouth again.

Triad. Just like Joanna said Laurel had been looking into. “Oh, my God. Are they trying to kill you again?”

“I’d love to know why,” she said, hiking her dress up as they cleared another landing and headed for more stairs. This was definitely not the way to the exit.

He tried to pull them both to a stop. “Wait, wait, we don’t have any of your bodyguards, dad. We need to get out of here!”

Laurel seemed swayed, but his father took his shoulders again.

“Tommy, take a deep breath and trust me. Upstairs in my office is a panic room. We get there, we seal it off.”

They made it to another hallway, only to skid to a stop as two more uniformed men stepped into their path with handguns.

His father and Laurel both moved at the same time, each going for one of the Triad men. Laurel elbowed at the man’s gut and forced his arm up into the air so that his shot went into the ceiling. Then she slammed him against the wall with her arm pressing up against his throat. His father, meanwhile, had twisted his opponent’s arm around to force the gun out of his hand. He took it and pointed it at the attacker’s head.

Tommy reached out. “Wait!”

His father shot the man point blank. He turned and fired a second shot at the man Laurel was struggling to keep pinned. She staggered back with a gasp, and Tommy steadied her with his hands on his arms. But his eyes were on his father..

“You killed them.”

“As surely as they would’ve killed you.”

There was a bang from downstairs of a door hitting a wall. More people were coming up. 

His father checked the gun he was holding. Then ushered them towards another door. He punched in the code as he spoke. “The penthouse floor is on a separate grid. Electromagnetic locks. You get up there, and it’ll be over.”

“You’re not coming with us,” Laurel said. She’d held onto the second attacker’s gun, and Tommy didn’t understand how she could possibly be this calm and collected.

“I’ll be along as soon as I can. Now move!”

“Dad!”

“Keep going, Tommy!”

Laurel grabbed onto his hand and pulled him further up the steps with more strength than Tommy really would have expected. She kept him running all the way to the top, with no chance to stop and wait for his dad.

“We can’t just leave him down there!”

“You have to trust he can take care of himself, Tommy. Didn’t you see what he did to those men?”

He had seen. And he still was in shock. He’d watched his father fight and kill. How had he known how to do that?

They threw open the doors to his dad’s penthouse office and shut them behind them, sliding down to the ground as they both caught their breath. It was eerily still and quiet in the room, making it hard to imagine there was a fight for survival going on in the floors below them.

“Tommy, I think we should stay down.”

He looked over at her. “What?”

“There’s a lot of windows. We should stick to the floor until the police arrive.”

“You’re sure?” When she nodded, he gave a sigh. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”

Tommy put on his best army crawl as he led the way over towards his father’s desk. His breath sounded loud to his own ears.

“How are we gonna know when it’s safe?” It wasn’t as if the Triad couldn’t pretend to be officers asking them to come back out since they’d already impersonated waitstaff.

“News alerts? But I dropped my clutch somewhere,” she said. “It had my phone.”

“I got it,” he replied. Tommy fished his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. The screen lit up bright and—

It didn’t sound like a shot. For one thing, there was the window shattering that covered everything. Then a sound like a mini explosion as the side of his father’s desk was blown into pieces. Tommy curled up in a ball, his head tucked into his chest, and waited a few terrible moments.

When the silence remained, he peeked out of his protective ball. “Sorry. You were right — Laurel? Laurel!”

She was lying there, one hand over her middle where a splintered piece of wood stuck out of her abdomen. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

“Laurel! Oh my- oh my God.” He slid across the floor to her. It was hard to see in the dark of the room, but there was a stain spreading over her dress.

“No, no, no, Laurel. Laurel, come on!” What was he supposed to do? Take it out? Leave it in? He fumbled for his phone. They needed help.

A shadow loomed over them both, and Tommy looked up. The Hood had arrived.

He knew he’d technically been the first to ever see the vigilante in action, even if he’d been out of it still from the drugs he’d been given. Fully lucid, the man looked even more intimidating than his pictures.

_ “Laurel.” _

He crossed the room with menacing strides, and Tommy threw himself in front of Laurel.

“Stay back!” The gun she’d brought with them was lying near her and he picked it up, pointing it at the vigilante.

The Hood halted, though he didn’t sound happy about it.  _ “She needs medical attention. There’s an ambulance downstairs. I can get her there.” _

Tommy’s grip on the gun only tightened. “Why should I trust you?”

The Hood reached up, not for his quiver of arrows, but for the very hood that covered his head. He pulled it back and stepped into a beam of moonlight, and it was Oliver who answered. “Because you always have.”

Tommy sat back, hard. The gun slipped from his fingers. Oliver didn’t wait for any further response. He moved to scoop Laurel up into his arms, one hand lifting the hood back over his features. Then he went back to the shattered window and shot a line. With the bow in one hand and Laurel secured in his other arm, he jumped. Tommy stood and staggered on his feet.

They were gone. Oliver and Laurel, gone just like that. How could it be? If it weren’t for the blood on the floor, he’d think it was all something he’d made up in his head.

The office doors were flung open and his father rushed in. “Tommy?”

“Dad! You’re okay.”

His father took in the damage done to the room. “Where’s Laurel?”

“The Hood, he took her. Said he could get her to the ambulance. She- she got hurt.” Tommy gazed around at the chaos again. He felt lost.

His father reached out, and for the first time he could remember in ages, pulled him into a hug. “Tommy, I’m going to speak to the police about this. Whoever organized this attack, they will pay,” his father promised. Tommy believed him.

“Okay.”

His father pulled back but kept his hands on his arms. “Let one of my men drive you to the hospital. Please.”

Tommy nodded numbly.

On the drive over, it occurred to him he had said the Hood. Not Oliver. He still couldn’t believe it was Oliver. His best friend, the man he considered like a brother...how could he be the same killer that had been going after people for the last several months? What had happened to make him like that?

He was looked over at the hospital for a few cuts and scrapes he’d gotten from the broken glass. A quiet request got him the floor Laurel would be moved to after her surgery. He was the only one there, at first.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and in walked Oliver and Mr. Diggle. The bodyguard stopped a good distance away as Oliver walked up, but Tommy wondered if it mattered. He’d probably hear all about whatever they said later; he could see it in his eyes now that the man knew the truth.

That left him only one question.

“Tommy…” Oliver began.

He cut him off. “You said to get her somewhere safe. She was the one the Triad was after.”

“Yes,” Oliver answered.

“Because of you?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Does she know? Who you really are.”

After a moment, Oliver gave a single nod.

Tommy leaned back against the wall. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

Laurel was dating the Hood. It sounded insane. She was throwing herself headlong into danger every chance she got. She’d almost died tonight.

“It was about you, wasn’t it? All the Triad, Bratva stuff she was researching.”

Oliver looked down.

“You know what? You were right when you came back. You should have stayed away from her.” Of course Laurel would follow Oliver wherever he went, whatever he did. She loved him. And he was too selfish to admit that all he did was get her hurt.

“Tommy, there’s something else—”

“No.” He held a hand up. “I think I got it.” Tommy pushed off the wall and walked away. He couldn’t face this right now.

He took the elevator down to the main level. He’d have to call for a ride. But as he walked towards the sliding doors at the end, a sniffle caught his attention. He turned towards a little visitor’s waiting nook, empty aside from one occupant.

“Mrs. Queen?”

She looked up, hastily balling up the kleenex in one hand as if to hide it the way magicians did to their scarves. He’d wanted to be a magician once, back when he was a kid. He’d had the name for it, after all.

“Oh, Tommy. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“What are you doing here?” He would’ve thought she’d gone home to reassure her children she was alright — not that Oliver would have been home to hear it.

Oliver’s mother had already half-risen from her chair, and she paused there a moment. “Well, I’d heard Laurel was in the hospital.”

“So you decided to wait in a totally different area of the hospital?”

The more he looked at her, the more he could see just how tired and distressed she still seemed. Her fingers were playing nervously with one edge on the kleenex, threatening to tear it right off. More than ever, she reminded him of Oliver. The Oliver that had come back from the island, that was.

After what he’d just learned, he wasn’t about to overlook his misgivings this time.

Tommy took a step closer. “Mrs. Queen...is something going on?”

—-

In one night, everything had gone completely to Hell.

Laurel had been targeted by the Triad. It wasn’t the first time she’d been tangled with them, but this had him worried. Who had used the Triad to put out the hit? Chyna White had refused to answer. None of Laurel’s current cases had opponents with that dirty of a background.

Worse, none of the people who had done so before had ever managed to hurt her like this. He couldn’t get the sound of her gasping breaths out of his head. It had taken everything in him to leave immediately upon placing her in the care of the paramedics at the scene.

He’d rushed back to the base and found John waiting. “Hospital,” he’d said in a clipped tone as he’d stripped down to change into civilian wear.

John had gotten them there as quickly as humanly possible, and Oliver had met Tommy in the waiting room. His friend was still shaken from learning the truth, it seemed, and was taking it about as badly as Oliver had ever feared. He couldn’t worry about that yet, though. Not until he knew Laurel’s condition.

Now alone, save for John who was waiting a few feet down the hall — the most strategic position in case of unwanted visitors approaching from the stairs or elevators — Oliver stood there and prayed to whatever might be out there listening. Laurel had to be okay. She had to be. He didn’t know how he’d live with himself if she wasn’t.

Laurel meant so much to him. She was one of his oldest friends, she inspired him to be better than he thought himself capable of, and she was the only woman he wanted to be with. He loved her, and not as part of some cover. If he lost her tonight, without her knowing...

A nurse left the room Laurel had been moved to after her surgery and spotted him. She walked over.

“You’re here for Miss Lance?”

“Yes.” Oliver had to clear his throat. “I’m her boyfriend.”

The nurse nodded. “Well, she’s in stable condition now. She’ll need monitoring and rest, but the worst of it is over.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting that sink in. Laurel wasn’t dying. She would be okay with time. He’d never been more relieved in his life.

“Can I see her?”

“For a few minutes, yes.”

He walked to the doorway and paused a moment, gathering a breath. Then he stepped through.

A steady, reassuring beeping tone filled the space. Laurel’s chest was rising and falling with her breathing. As he took the chair at her bedside, her eyes opened and a smile rose on her lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Really,” she told him, her voice still thick with some of the fog of anesthesia. “Is Tommy okay?”

“Yeah. He, um, he knows. I had to show myself so he’d let me take you to the paramedics.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Not well,” he chose to answer.

Laurel turned the arm closest to him over, her palm up. Even as tired and drained as she had to be, she was offering him comfort. Oliver felt himself smile.

A light knock on the door frame had them both looking up, and Oliver’s eyes widened in disbelief at the woman who stood there.

“Mom?” Laurel asked.

“Hello, Laurel. Oliver,” Mrs. Lance added with a brief smile in his direction.

Laurel glanced from him to her mother as if to check he was seeing this, too. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was already here,” her mother answered. There was a nervous quality to her voice and movements as she stepped into the room, but she was putting a brave face on it. “I just got in tonight. I was coming to see you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you about something important. It’s about Sara.”

Laurel went totally still. “Sara.”

Oliver’s eyes closed. The broken note in her voice was almost too much to bear.

Mrs. Lance either didn’t notice or was choosing to steam ahead anyway. “Yes. I think she may still be alive. I did some research after you were found, Oliver—”

He shook his head. Perhaps something like this should have been expected when he returned, but he did not have the happy answer she wanted. And now was about the worst time to be asking.

“You’re here because of Sara,” Laurel repeated.

“Well, of course when I heard you’d been hospitalized I came here,” her mother said. “I- I wanted to see you either way.”

“And you didn’t want to see me the last five years? Just when you thought maybe I could help you with something?” Laurel’s voice was wavering badly, and Oliver didn’t have to be a doctor to know this couldn’t be good for her recovery. He stood up from the chair.

“Mrs. Lance, with all due respect, I think this can wait.” He let her back out of the room, her expression one of hurt, and then shut the door quietly. Oliver turned back around. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” When he gave her a look, Laurel swallowed once and amended, “No. I just — I should have expected something like that. You know, even when I’m recovering in the hospital, it’s all about Sara.” Her eyes spilled over with tears she didn’t have the strength to wipe away. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? I miss her so much. I  _ loved _ her. We all did. I just wish mom loved me, too.”

Oliver retook his chair and reached for her hands. “Laurel, I am so sorry for everything I did to your family.” Going over to her house when they were younger and seeing the way the Lances had been, he’d always loved it. They were what he’d always thought a family should be.

“Well, you didn’t do that. We had our problems, and I’m done blaming you for all of them.” Laurel swallowed once. “You’re too important to me.”

He looked down at their hands. For so long, he’d kept himself going on the promise that he would make things right between them. Now that he was here and Laurel had let him back into her life, he didn’t see how he’d done enough to deserve it. And that scared him.

But he couldn’t let the fear rule him this time. He’d gotten lucky too many times; with his own life, with Laurel’s. He didn’t want to wait for their luck to run out.

It was now or never. Oliver opened his mouth.

“Ollie. You need to know something.”

He looked back up at her face. “Yeah?”

“It’s about Mr. Merlyn.” Laurel took a deep breath, then continued, “He fought off the Triad on our way to the penthouse. Shot two of them point blank right in front of Tommy and me.”

Oliver went still. “He did?”

“He was good. You’re the only other person I know who can move like that.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “What if he’s the man you fought at Christmas?”

At first, his mind wanted to reject it. Even with Ken Williams’ statement, it was hard seeing Mr. Merlyn as someone other than the family friend he had always been. But then, with everything Tommy had told him about how cold his father had become over the years, with this new information. More than that, who would Merlyn trust better to do the job than himself? Cut out risk, eliminate the middleman. That was a CEO’s thinking.

Whether or not he was the Dark Archer, this still changed things. It made Merlyn dangerous.

“Don’t tell the police what you saw. If Merlyn thinks you’ll get him caught…” He couldn’t finish that sentence. God, they had fallen far too deep into things. He was finding it hard to see a way out of this. There was so much still unknown.

The door opened yet again, this time on a glowering Detective Lance.

“I think you’ve seen her for long enough.”

“Dad,” Laurel protested, but Oliver squeezed her hands once before standing up and letting go. He needed to try and help this rift between Laurel and her father heal.

“I’ll stick around,” he promised, leaning in once to kiss her forehead. He wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing how vulnerable Laurel was to attack here, so even pretending to go home and rest was useless.

He straightened up and gave a short nod to her father. Lance shouldered past him on his way to the visitor’s chair, and Oliver’s expression only turned more grim.

Only two things mattered now: keeping Laurel safe and finding whoever hired the Triad.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this, everyone. I want things to realistically come to a head, so I've been playing with how quickly I want various things to be revealed to characters. At any rate, I hope you continue to enjoy some of the developments in this chapter!

Now that Quentin was alone with his daughter, some of his confidence deflated. It had been a while since they had had a real conversation, after all.

Laurel seemed to recognize he needed an opening and sighed. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey.” 

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. The doctors said I should make a full recovery.”

He pointed with his thumb out into the hall. “You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a woman who might have been your mother out in that hallway.”

Laurel pulled a face. “She was here about Sara.”

“Sara?”

“She thinks she might still be alive, I guess. Since Oliver came back.”

“Ah.” Figured Queen was to blame for this, too. “Did she say if she was staying?”

“I didn’t really ask. I couldn’t really deal with it just then. Actually, Oliver was kind of helping me calm down before you showed up.”

She pinned him with a look, and Quentin glanced down at the floor. So they were really confronting this.

“Honey, I- I know we’ve had it rough the past few weeks. But I had to see you. You have no idea what I’d do if something happened to you.” He took another couple of steps forward. “No matter who you’re seeing or what you’re doing, you’re my daughter. You’re all I got left in the world and, and I can’t take that for granted anymore.”

Her look softened a little.

“Does it have to be Queen, though?”

Her mouth twisted like she was trying not to smile or frown.

“Okay, okay.” He’d keep his misgivings to himself, at least for now. There was something off about Queen ever since he’d gotten back, something that made it seem like he had things to hide. It had been bugging him lately, like his brain had been following some train of thought but couldn’t quite remember all the pieces.

There was a knock on the door frame that had them both looking up. A young blonde woman with a ponytail and glasses stood there.

“Um, hi. Is this a bad time for visitors?”

Quentin glanced back at his daughter, but she looked just as confused as he felt. “You’re here to see me?”

The woman nodded. “Uh-huh. Mr. Diggle outside — Oliver’s bodyguard — he let me through.”

Well, that Mr. Diggle has saved his daughter’s life at least once before. He could trust the man’s judgment.

“Tell you what, I’m gonna check a couple things out at the scene. Least before Pike shuts it all down.”

“Dad, that is way beyond conflict of interest,” Laurel warned him.

“Well, there’s gonna be conflict if whoever they assign to this case screws things up. I’ll be back soon as I can.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then nodded once to the woman at the door as she stepped aside to allow him through.

The earliest report that he’d heard over the radio was that this was looking to be a Triad hit. Detective Hall had a confirmed sighting of China White herself. That was the second time that woman had shown up somewhere his daughter was. Could that be a coincidence, or was there something more going on here? 

The younger Merlyn had let him know Laurel had recently been looking into something with the Triad. Why was beyond him. None of her current clients had any connections, and she’d said her involvement in the case with whoever was linked to the Bratva was over — and there was something there, something that lingered in the recesses of his mind, some thought he had had and forgotten. What was it?

Hilton met him outside of Merlyn Global, and security let the two of them up. He tried following the steps Laurel and the younger Merlyn would have taken. A number of attackers had been felled by the Hood, but there were two men dead just outside a stairwell that couldn’t be accounted for. According to Hall’s brief report, the Hood hadn’t gone this way, and the cause of death was one of their own handguns.

“Do we have the gun?”

“No. First sweep by forensics didn’t turn it up,” Lucas read off the small file he’d grabbed a copy of.

Something wasn’t right about all this. It was a coordinated Triad attack, that much was obvious, but if Merlyn had been the target their sniper had taken his shot too soon. And where was the missing gun?

They continued up to the penthouse office. There wasn’t much to tell hear accept for the shattered window, desk, and the heavy-duty casing of the bullet that had done the job. The latter of which had already been bagged up and taken back to the lab.

Some of the glass from the window had been disturbed by the activity of people. He picked his way over, tracking the scatter pattern. The glint of shards caught his eye by the far wall.

He motioned his partner. “Hilt. Look at this.”

Lucas joined him. There were shards halfway under the wall, and probably more on the other side he was willing to bet. It was a sliding wall.

He looked up at the small portrait hanging just below eye level. Maybe...

“Can I help you officers with anything?”

Quentin and Lucas both looked to the door where Malcolm Merlyn stood.

“That’s alright, Mr. Merlyn,” Hilton began.

“What’s behind this false wall?” Quentin asked instead. No point beating around the bush.

“Servers,” the billionaire answered as he took a couple of steps into the room, careful to mind the tape and cards that had been set up in various spots by CSU. “They’re necessary to handle the processing traffic of day-to-day business, but they aren’t pleasing to look at.”

Quentin made a show of nodding. “Right.”

“Any other questions? I really would like to lend any aid to solving this case. Laurel has always been a good friend to Tommy, and I’ll sleep better knowing the person who hurt her is caught.”

But he wasn’t about to open that wall. That much was clear.

“No, I think we’ve done everything we can here. Thank you for your time.”

Merlyn watched their whole progress out of the office, and Hilt didn’t speak up until the elevator doors had closed.

“Where to next? Home before Pike finds out you’re working this case?”

Quentin shook his head. “Got to see a judge for a warrant first.”

“For Merlyn’s office. What for?”

“For what’s really in that room.”

He didn’t know much about servers or other tech, but he did know they were loud. Merlyn was lying for some reason. And if it had something to do with why his daughter had been hospitalized, he was going to find out what that reason was.

—-

Laurel waited as her father left her alone in her room with this relative stranger.

“Did you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” Her visitor did so, glancing back once at the door she had closed. Laurel didn’t think she had anything to worry about considering Digg had allowed this woman through, but she was definitely curious as to why he had.

The woman stopped by the visitor chair but didn’t sit down. Instead she glanced down at her empty hands. “Oh, I should have brought flowers.”

“That’s okay,” Laurel said. “Just, sorry, who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” the woman said very quickly. “I mean, I’m someone, obviously. I work at Queen Consolidated. And I help your boyfriend with his various odd jobs — which I swear isn’t an innuendo.”

“Of course.” Her visitor seemed incredibly nervous. Laurel had half a mind to tell her to calm down.

“But tonight, earlier, I messed up. He asked me to get into this Russian man’s phone, and by the time I did, the award ceremony was getting started and you were in danger and if I’d just been faster—”

“Hey, slow down.” Laurel did her best to sit up against her pillows. Why had this woman assumed she of all people at the ceremony had been in danger? The obvious target was Malcolm, wasn’t it? “What’s your name?”

“Felicity.”

“Felicity, this isn’t your fault.”

“But if I’d figured it out faster, then maybe Oliver would’ve gotten there in time to stop it. He’s the Hood, isn’t he? Your boyfriend.”

“Um.”

“I mean, anytime he asks me to do a favor, it somehow mysteriously connects up with a future Hood appearance. And he’s also really bad at making up excuses. Like, phenomenally bad.”

Laurel grimaced. She wasn’t wrong.

“It’s not that I’m going to tell! At this point, I’d probably be liable for aiding and abetting. I’d be crazy to turn him in.”

“Okay,” Laurel agreed slowly. She still wasn’t sure if it would be at all wise to verbally confirm the woman’s guess. “That still wouldn’t make any of this your fault. And I’ll be fine.”

Her visitor drew in a breath and nodded. “Okay. I’m glad about that. In fact, I should probably let you rest.” She left Laurel’s bedside and made strides to the door. “It’s just that,” Felicity said and then stopped as she turned back in the doorway. “My boss went missing a while ago. Walter Steele? And I guess, if Oliver needs help finding him, he can just ask. He doesn’t have to lie about what it’s for.”

Laurel nodded, a small smile growing. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Okay. Feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Felicity left, leaving Laurel with a lot to think about. Someone else was in on their secret. Not that she was going to tell, but that still put Oliver, and herself and John, at greater risk of being caught. They really needed to be more careful.

But the main thing bugging her was still Felicity’s belief that she had somehow been in more danger than the others at the award ceremony. Was there something she didn’t know?

“John?” When that didn’t produce immediate results, she tried a little louder. “Digg?”

Moments later, he poked his head in the doorway. “Everything alright?”

“Mostly. Just, um, Felicity was in here.”

He nodded. “She wouldn’t calm down till she saw you. Sorry.”

“No, that was okay. She was really nice. But she knows.”

John understood the significance she put into the last word. He sighed and walked in, speaking quieter as he took the chair. “Figured that was gonna happen eventually. Oliver did a background check on her, though. She should be safe.”

“Okay.” That was something of a relief at least. “The thing is, she came to apologize. Because she thought somehow me getting injured was her fault. But it could have been anyone, couldn’t it? Anyone who went in that penthouse.”

John didn’t say anything.

“John.” Laurel sat up a little higher.

He sighed and let out a breath. “Oliver’s not gonna want me to tell you this, but you were the target.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “Me? But Merlyn—”

“We’re not sure yet how he’s involved. If he even is involved. But Barrera had your photo.”

She could feel her heart picking up a bit, which was reflected by the monitor hooked up to her. Laurel forced her breathing to calm. “But if I’m not dead…”

“We don’t know what the next move is. That’s why I’m staying close. But we got lucky, definitely.”

She’d been the target. Was it because of her work or her digging into Mr. Merlyn’s business? What if they tried again?

“My father doesn’t know.”

John shook his head. “Oliver didn’t give him the target over the phone.”

“Well good. Don’t tell him.” She didn’t want to think about how much he’d worry or what he’d do if he was aware. “Was Oliver going to tell me?”

John hesitated. “I think he wanted you to focus on recovering for now.”

Laurel sighed. It would be just like him. “Recovering isn’t good enough, John. Not when we don’t know if or when another attack might come. I have to know what I might be dealing with.”

“I agree.”

“Well, thank you,” she told her friend. Laurel leaned back a little further against the pillows, a bit drained after all her various visitors. “Once I’m better, I have to find a trainer. Will you help me?”

She would probably do best to start trying new places, but… she wasn’t quite ready to give up on Ted Grant and the Wildcat Gym just yet. There was something about him, a down-to-earth authenticity that was hard to come by.

John nodded. “You should try for some sleep for now, though.”

“Yeah.” John stood, but Laurel reaches out to touch his arm. “Keep an eye on Oliver, okay? I don’t want him doing something he regrets.” 

She could still remember the look in his eyes when he’d gone after the man who had nearly killed her in Iron Heights. It had come from some part of him rooted deeply in the survival mode he’d needed out there on that island. But she knew now that it wasn’t really who he was. She didn’t want the Hood becoming known as that because of her.

John’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You asking me to watch Oliver and him asking me to watch you. You two might get somewhere faster without the middleman, ever think of that?”

Laurel looked down. “That’s… not really an option right now.”

“If you say so.” Her friend left the room to resume his watch.

He had something of a point. If things had gone differently tonight, right now might have been all she and Oliver had. Or never. Anything could have happened.

She needed to decide how she felt and what she wanted from life before it was too late.

—-

Moira was caught, and for once she had no careful plan in place for how to deal with it.

Malcolm’s own son was cornering her, questioning her. This had all the makings of a disaster. And yet, looking at Tommy’s earnest, open face… it was all too much. She’d started down this path to protect her children, but it was the children who were being hurt now.

“I- I can’t — it wouldn’t be wise to discuss here.” There was too much chance of them being overheard. Detective Lance had to be sniffing around somewhere, and Malcolm has his people. Oh, how she wished he’d been the one struck down tonight, and for good.

Tommy took another step forward. “Then where. Mrs. Queen—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s best for you not to know.”

Say he decided to tell his father. Then her whole family and Laurel were doomed. And if he didn’t tell, but Malcolm found out anyway? Tommy had already suffered so much at Malcolm’s hand.

Moira walked around him and hurried out the hospital doors to where we car waited. Her usual driver knew by now when not to ask questions at the state of her appearance or emotions. She spent the drive back reapplying some makeup to hide the tear tracks and calming herself down. It wouldn’t do for the rest of the staff or her family to see.

Especially not Oliver. That would undo her.

The only thing that allowed her to keep up the careful facade was that her son was nowhere to be found at the Manor that night or the following morning. Thea was present, and asked her if she wished to come along to visit Laurel in the hospital. Moira declined for the same reasons she’d been unable to bring herself to journey up the few floors that had separated her from the younger woman in that hospital, even though that had been part of the plan she and Frank had agreed upon.

Moira hid away in her home office as Thea got ready and left the house. There she allowed her tired eyes to rest a few moments, in private. Her mind would not rest, however, instead conjuring up images of Laurel looking at her with betrayal and devastation the same as when she’d had to deliver the news of her son’s infidelity and Sara Lance’s death. She could imagine the same look on Oliver’s face just as clearly.

She was alone in the house for less than an hour when Raisa knocked on the door of her office. “A visitor Mrs. Queen. Mr. Merlyn.”

For a moment, a chill settled in her heart — but then she saw Tommy standing in the slight gap of the doorway. He was determined to be persistent, then.

She had two options. Send him away and increase his suspicions — risk him going to Oliver or Malcolm — or confess some of the truth and hope he would understand the precarious situation they were all in whether they knew it or not.

“Send him in, Raisa.” It was absolutely silent once her longtime housekeeper had left them and Tommy stood only five feet away. “How...how is Laurel?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Tommy admitted. “I was too curious about what you couldn’t get into last night. Mrs. Queen, do you know something about the attack? Who might have been targeting my father?”

Moira nearly laughed. She would have slept a lot better the last several nights had Malcolm been the target — though perhaps the failed assassination might have made it all worse.

“Your father is safe, Tommy. And he certainly has the wherewithal and the people to ensure that.”

Tommy frowned, for reasons she wasn’t sure of. “Then why was there a sniper ready to shoot him once he reached his panic room?”

She looked down at her hands resting on the flat surface of her desk. “What makes you believe I would have any idea?”

“You behavior at the hospital. And before the attack. You were nervous about something. I think Laurel knew it, too.”

Laurel was suspicious? How much had Ken Williams told her, how much had he known?

She sensed as much as saw his approach right up to the other side of the desk. “Mrs. Queen, I’ve had my eyes opened to a lot that’s been going on around me this year. I need someone to be honest with me. You- I’ve considered your family my own since I was little. Whatever it is, let me help you.”

She looked up. “There’s nothing you can do to help. It’s far too late for that. At least for me.”

“Is it the Triad?”

She shook her head. “The Triad were a means to an end. Frank Chen has ties to them. You see,” she added at his surprised look, “the people in your father’s circle — your own father, Tommy — are not the people you’ve thought they are. And that includes me. Laurel knows this already.”

“She was the target?” Tommy fell back a step, eyes dismayed. “How could you — she loves your son.”

Moira closed her eyes.

“He- if he knew—”

“He can’t, Tommy. That’s why I agreed to it. Laurel discovered something no one was supposed to know, and if she told Oliver it would make him a target of someone far worse.”

“Worse than the person who nearly killed us last night? Who was it?”

“I don’t know who they hired. I swear. That was Frank’s job.” Moira swallowed to fight down the lump rising in her throat. “But I- I did ask them to try and not make it an immediately fatal shot. I wanted to give her the option—”

“The option for what?” Tommy practically spat. She could tell he was hardly believing what he was hearing.

“I hoped to  _ persuade  _ her that it would be best for her to leave Starling and end all contact with Oliver.”

“Or else she should expect a real bullet in her gut? Mrs. Queen, this is crazy!”

“No, it’s reality. For the last five years this has been my life. Ever since your father sabotaged the yacht my husband and son were on. I’ve just learned how to play the game.”

Tommy’s eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them. “Dad. Dad sabotaged the  _ Gambit?” _

She hadn’t meant to let that slip out. Moira turned away.

“He couldn’t have. Mr. Queen was his best friend. He loves Oliver more than he loves me,” Tommy insisted, bitterness seeping into his tone unchecked by the end of it.

“He didn’t know Oliver was on the yacht. Or Sara Lance. Just that Robert was on his way to stopping his plans for the Glades.” She looked back at him. “He’s never truly gotten over what happened to your mother.”

“What does- what does that mean?”

“It means I’ve already said too much. You need to stop asking questions, Tommy, now. For both our sakes.”

He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to get yourself out of trouble?”

“Because if it was only my own life on the line I wouldn’t care. I know the things that I have done are wrong. But I have to survive, to protect Oliver and Thea.” It was why she already had someone lined up to take the fall for last night. Horrid as it made her feel, Frank Chen’s connections to the Triad made him the believable candidate. She could only hope the investigations would stop there. “Walter’s abduction was my only warning.”

“Just like last night was Laurel’s,” he said hoarsely. Tommy backed away, turning just in time to avoid colliding with the door.

“You won’t tell Oliver, Tommy. Please.”

He stopped at the door and looked back at her. “I can’t tell him. You have no idea what he’d do.”

The young man she’d sometimes thought of as another son turned and left before she could ask what he meant.

—-

The end of that week found Oliver returning to the Jade Dragon, though this time he wasn’t planning to even pretend to indulge in the food. He stood on the roof in full Hood gear, contemplating the best way in. By monitoring the mafia’s comings and goings over the last several days, he had an idea of when the place would be most lightly manned. They were already running on a smaller staff thanks to the members who were lost during the fight at Merlyn Global, and for the meantime it seemed Chien Na Wei was lying low.

Going in for a full-on attack like this was possibly one of the more dangerous actions he had taken on since coming home, but it had to be done. He hadn’t gotten much information the first time he’d come to the Triad’s front of a restaurant, but he’d had limited time while under the guise of having dinner as himself with Tommy. Now he could operate without that in the way.

Laurel was scheduled to go home tonight. He wanted to be sure she wasn’t about to be walking into an ambush.

So as night fully fell, the Hood kicked in the skylight window and dropped into the Jade Dragon’s kitchen.

Catching the cooks off guard worked to his advantage. Two of them were down before the others could even raise their knives. He took some time to lock the door leading out to the dining area.

Oliver was soon ducking and dodging, using his bow to block the closer attacks.

Not all of them could be blocked. A slash to one arm had him snarling in pain and punching the attacker who dealt the cut out cold.

He grabbed the wrist of one man and twisted to wrench the knife out of his hand and threw it at the shoulder of the Triad member who’d just pulled a gun out from his sleeve. He staggered back and fell against the wall.

Oliver grabbed the man in front and slammed him into the other wall.  _ “Who hired you to attack the Humanitarian Award Ceremony?” _

_ “I would not tell you even if you could understand me,”  _ the man grunted back in Mandarin.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, and he answered back in kind.  _ “I can. Start talking.” _

He reached down with one hand for his own knife kept in his boot, turning it around so the point faced his hostage.  _ “Several of your members did not make it back from that night. Care to join them?” _

It would be easy to plunge the knife in. He knew the perfect place to lodge it to cause maximum pain without fear of the man passing out. He could keep him talking for hours if he wanted. Waller has taught him well.

But he could picture Laurel and John. The things they would say, were they here. What Tommy would say, even. Were his friends wrong to worry, to turn from him when they learned the truth?

Oliver screwed up his face as the man stared at him, his chest heaving with every breath as he waited for the Hood’s judgment.

He slammed the knife into the wall beside his head.

_ “Well?” _

“Chen!” The name burst forth in one shout, and Oliver had a grim moment of satisfaction followed by dread.

Chen was one of Merlyn’s people. Did Malcolm know what they had found out? 

A hail of bullets slammed into the kitchen door from the other side. His captive kicked out, causing Oliver to drop to the side. He aimed his bow up and shot another grapple arrow. It latched on and he hit the button to pull himself up just as the door was kicked in. Oliver narrowly avoided another spray of bullets as he rose up and scrambled across the roof to the building next door. From there, he continued his flight from the Jade Dragon. And not a moment too soon, judging by the police sirens rising through the air.

It seemed clear he had waited too long to go after Frank Chen — but then, if he went there tonight, did that give Chen another opening to send more assassins after Laurel?

He needed to protect his people, not just go on the attack. This wasn’t the island anymore; he had loved ones to lose.

Oliver turned his comm back on and asked, “John?”

The response took just under a minute.  _ “You’re lucky I’ve learned to just keep this on me.” _

“Frank Chen contracted the Triad. I’m worried about what he might do since the hit failed.”

_ “Detective Lance left with Laurel half an hour ago. He was dropping her off at her place.” _

“I’m on my way over there,” he told Digg as he officially entered the downtown area. “Hopefully the Triad will be too busy cleaning up their kitchen to make any moves tonight.”

_ “And what about tomorrow night? Or the night after that? Oliver, you can’t just sit outside Laurel’s fire escape from dusk to dawn forever.” _

John was right. If he was going to make any forward progress in this mission, he couldn’t just be spending time on defense. And it was unrealistic to expect either himself or Diggle to keep watch every hour of the night. But Laurel’s apartment was too vulnerable, as evidenced by the Triad’s first attempt on her life.

He started turning an idea over in his head. “I’ll talk to Laurel about it, see if we can work something out.”

_ “Alright.” _

Oliver reached her apartment a few minutes later, and like other times he had come here in the suit, he headed down from the roof on the fire escape, stopping outside her window. It was locked, which he was glad about. The easiest thing to do would be to just get Laurel’s attention so she would open it herself.

There was just one problem.

Dinah Lance was in the sitting room. She was pacing about, a notebook in hand, and Oliver could see a little poster board propped up by Laurel’s desk.

Laurel herself was sitting on the couch, arms folded. She looked exhausted.

She said something to her mother, and the older woman paused and nodded. Dinah then exited the room, distractedly patting Laurel on the shoulder as she passed by with her head still buried in her notes.

Laurel stood as well to turn off the lamp, and that was when Oliver risked tapping on the window. She jumped and whirled around, a hand pressing to the spot on her abdomen where her surgical scar was. Once she caught sight of him, she hurried to the window and opened it.

“Oliver, what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. It’s important. About the Triad.”

Laurel’s incredulous look went away, and she glanced back into the apartment once before climbing out of the window onto the fire escape with him. “What is it?”

“I paid a visit to the Jade Dragon.”

“I can see that.” She reached to gently touch his injured arm below the cut. “You should get this taken care of.”

“It can wait. One of their members was willing to give me the name of who ordered the hit. It was Chen.”

“Then he knows we’re onto him. Does that mean Malcolm knows? He helped me get away from the Triad members that attacked the ceremony.”

“He also sent you up to the room where the sniper was able to take his shot,” Oliver reminded her.

Laurel frowned. “But he sent Tommy, too. I mean, do you think he’s willing to risk his own son’s life like that?”

“That’s the problem, I guess. There’s a lot about Malcolm we still don’t know. What his plan is, what he’s capable of. He sabotaged the  _ Gambit _ knowing his best friend was on it.” Oliver wished more than ever he knew why. What had his father been trying to do before his untimely death? Why couldn’t he have told him more?

“What we do know is, whatever problem Chen was hoping to solve by contracting the Triad, it hasn’t been. And that means they could try again.”

“I’m aware of that,” Laurel replied. “I cleaned both of my guns and loaded them as soon as I got home.”

He nodded in acknowledgment of that. “I know you can protect yourself pretty well, Laurel, but this location isn’t ideal. The Triad already knows how to conduct a two-pronged attack, and there are plenty of buildings for a sniper to choose from to make his nest.”

“Well, I guess I’m giving them a pretty good opening right now,” she remarked dryly, gesturing to the open air. “My dad’s apartment wouldn’t be much safer, Ollie. I don’t really know what you want me to do.”

He hesitated for a second longer than was exactly usual. “Come stay with me?”

Laurel stared at him in shock. “This better not be a joke.”

“It’s not.” He’d known this would be a tricky proposal considering the last time they’d ever discussed living together. “I’m also not saying it has to be permanent if you don’t want. Just until I’ve taken care of Frank Chen and determined if anyone else was in on the hit. The Manor is harder to get to and has its own constant security even when I’m not around. It’s the safest place for you.”

“I don’t know, Ollie. Aren’t your mother and Thea going to think it’s all a little too sudden?”

“I’ll just tell them I’m making up for lost time.” He thought of the wasted years often, of what he could have had if he hadn’t been so stupid to run away from the best part of his life. It wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary for him at all.

“If you pack an overnight bag, we can come back tomorrow to get some more of your things. I’ll ask John to meet us here with the car.”

Laurel touched his arm briefly, a signal he was getting ahead of himself. “Oliver, if I’m not safe here, neither is my mother. I have to make sure she’ll either get a hotel room somewhere else in the city or go back home.”

“What is she still doing here?” It didn’t look as though she was setting up to take care of Laurel.

“She wants help investigating Sara. There’s a photo of a girl in a Rockets hat just like the one dad bought her, and it was taken on one of the islands in the North China Sea. I’m trying to reach out to a friend from law school who works in the Chinese Embassy, but,” she trailed off with a shrug.

Oliver gave a slow shake of his head. “You don’t have to. Sara- she didn’t have the hat when the  _ Gambit _ went down. There was no way she could have recovered it, even if she is somehow still alive.”

Laurel leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I should have realized. Mom is just so sure.”

“Why does she think Sara had it with her?” Truthfully it had been so long, Oliver couldn’t remember if he’d seen it among her things or not. He probably wouldn’t have cared even if he had noticed it. He’d been such a jerk.

“I don’t know.” She turned her head in his direction without lifting it, opening her eyes. Laurel’s look was contemplative, and he had no doubt she’d be chewing on the end of a pen if she had one right now. Eventually, she snapped out of it. “I’ll talk to my mother. You get John to pick you up. You shouldn’t be going across the city with your arm like that.”

“Okay.”

Laurel turned and slipped back in through her window. Oliver watched to make sure she got in alright, then headed to an alley nearby the apartment to wait for Digg after he called his friend again. When the car pulled up, he got in the back and took out the change of clothes he kept to get out of the Hood’s suit.

“So how’d the talk with Laurel go?”

“Her mom is sticking around, so she’s got a lot going on right now.” He checked his watch. It was late, but was it late enough that the Triad definitely wasn’t sending anyone else tonight?

Oliver opened his mouth to let Diggle know they were good to head back, but his phone buzzing caught his attention. It was Laurel.

“Hello?”

“Ollie, are you still nearby?”

He could tell by the thickness of her tone that she’d very recently stopped crying. Oliver held up a hand to signal John to wait.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. But I packed the overnight bag.”

“Laurel, are you and your mother safe?”

“We are. I’m coming down in the elevator right now. Can you and John get me out front?”

“Oliver, what is it?” John asked quietly.

“Laurel’s coming with us,” he answered back with his hand over the receiver. He took it away again and said, “Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

Laurel was waiting on the sidewalk as they pulled the car around and had walked over before he could even think about getting out to open the door for her. She carried a small bag that she placed on the seat in between them, and as she shut the door with one hand, her other briefly passed over her eyes as if to check they were dry.

“Did something happen with your mom?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” she replied, her eyes on the headrest of the seat in front of her.

He exchanged a helpless look with John in the rear view mirror, and his friend then offered, “You want to just go?”

Laurel nodded. “But I need to do something first.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, but Laurel just leaned forward to speak directly to John. “Can we stop at the Wildcat Gym before the Manor?”

—-

Ted had just finished sweeping up when there was a knock on the front door. He sighed and shook his head. Probably someone had forgotten their gloves in the locker room.

But as he approached the door, it wasn’t one of his students he saw waiting on the other side.

Ted unlocked it and held it open, his arm blocking any forward access.

“Didn’t think you’d be back.”

“Didn’t think you’d open the door.”

He stared at Laurel Lance and she stared back.

Ted sighed and stepped back. “Well?”

“I’m not coming in,” she told him. Then she lifted the hem of her shirt to show him an angry-looking scar to one side of her abdomen. It was fresh. “I’m not in the best condition.”

He blew out a breath. “I’ll say.” What was an otherwise sweet looking girl like her up to to end up with something like that?

“I’m going to need some time to heal. But once I have, I’ll be back. And I know you think I should take time to consider what I’m asking you for, but I don’t have that time. I need to be better and stronger than I am.”

Her frown alone said there was no argument to be made. Ted looked down at the ground for a few moments, considering.

The thing was, he knew what she was really asking him for. What she was striving for, even if she didn’t yet know it herself. A person didn’t come asking for boxing lessons after being in a couple tight spots. She didn’t decide to be a fighter unless she  _ was _ a fighter.

Could he do it? Give her the tools, just like he’d once given Isaac. Look how that had turned out. But the sobering reality was that he could tell by the determination in her eyes, him saying no wasn’t about to stop her.

So it was up to him to make sure she did things the right way. The way he’d once tried to.

He glanced back up, and Laurel Lance was still standing there with that same fire in her eyes that had been put out in his. He hadn’t forgotten how much it had hurt, but he’d missed watching it burn.

“Let me know when you want to start.”

The corner of her lip curved up and she nodded once. Then she turned and walked away to a shiny black car driven by a tough-looking guy in a plain black suit. Military, Ted would bet his lease.

His new student got in the back as a man he could’ve sworn he’d seen on television opened the door from the inside, and the three drove off. What kind of people was he dealing with, really?

Ted headed back inside and finished locking up. He went back to his office and dig through his drawers for an old folder. It held the few scant clippings about the old days, all from a local paper that had closed in the Glades years ago. Bought out and never replaced.

For the first time since he’d quit and hung up the vigilante crusade for good, Ted felt like something was beginning again.


End file.
